


Jonathan Stolen & Mr Norrell

by Nefertiti_22002



Series: Jonathan Strange ♥ Mr Norrell sequels [3]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Seduction, M/M, Magical abduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7923190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefertiti_22002/pseuds/Nefertiti_22002
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is early 1820. Strange and Norrell have been in the Darkness together for about three years. Hurtfew Abbey is still located in Kassel, Germany, where the two magicians are enjoying discussions of magic and sharing of books with Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. One morning Norrell wakes up to find Strange missing. He is the only one capable of saving the younger magician, but can he get up the courage to enter Faerie and fight a powerful foe?</p><p>Explicit only in Chapter 4.</p><p>Thanks to Predatrix for the original prompt and for some passages of dialogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Early one morning at Hurtfew Abbey

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place in the universe of "Jonathan Strange ♥ Mr Norrell." The sequels to that fic are: "The Toasts of Venice" and "Books make perfect Christmas gifts." "Jonathan Stolen & Mr Norrell" takes place a little more than a year after the latter.

February, 1820

Mr Norrell stirred and partly woke up in the middle of the night. Jonathan had got out of bed, no doubt to answer a call of nature via the chamber-pot in the adjacent bathroom. Despite his absence, Norrell still felt quite warm and began to drift back to sleep. He struggled to stay slightly awake just long enough to feel his lover’s arms slip around him once more. Even on those rare occasions when he felt overly warm in bed, he preferred to slumber in Jonathan’s embrace. They had been together in the Darkness for just over three years, and still not a night went by without his experiencing as he waited for sleep to overtake him a little period of quiet, private joy at having the other magician for his own at last.

Drowsiness soon threatened to overcome his resistance, and, dimly aware that Jonathan had still not returned to bed, he succumbed, dropping back into a deep sleep.

A few hours later, he woke up again, more thoroughly this time and ready to face another blissful day of reading and eating and cuddling and going to bed, all with Jonathan at his side and at times entwined with him.

The thought of entwining with Jonathan made him roll over to see if he was still asleep. Not only was Jonathan not asleep, he was not there at all. A look of disappointment came over Norrell’s face. Jonathan almost never rose in the morning without waiting for him to wake up, and Norrell did the same if Jonathan were still asleep. Norrell doubted that he had slept longer than usual and thus caused Jonathan to lose patience.

He consoled himself that perhaps Jonathan had simply had one of his sudden inspirations about magic and hastened out to write it down. Norrell could hardly complain about that. He had been trying for years to induce Jonathan to be more careful in note-taking and especially in recording his own original, spontaneous spells before he forgot them. He was so very imaginative in devising spells, Norrell thought with a little smile. Another possibility was that Jonathan had simply been too hungry to wait for his breakfast. Norrell had long envied him his hearty appetite and ability to cope with a wide variety of food. Yes, that was also somewhat plausible.

“Jonathan?” he called, but as he expected, he received no answer. Naturally if Jonathan were downstairs already, he could not hear anything from the second-floor bedroom area. 

There was a gentle knock at the door. This was unlikely to be Jonathan, who seldom knocked at this particular door. Norrell said, “Come in,” and Lucas opened the door a short way and stuck his head in.

“Good morning, sir. Ready for your bath?”

Norrell dithered briefly. He was still trying to stifle his disappointment over Jonathan getting up and leaving him sleeping. He had been tempted to go down and seek out his lover, but now that Lucas was here to bathe and dress him, it seemed silly to do so.

Lucas got him into the bathtub and went to lay out his clothes while his master washed. When he returned, Norrell was soaking peacefully. Lucas remarked, “Mr Strange is up betimes today, sir. I hope there’s nothing wrong.” The former head footman now served in Childermass’ place as the manager of the household. He was also well aware of the close relationship between Norrell and Strange, given that he also preferred a male partner and had long shared a relationship with Davey. Since returning to Norrell’s service, he had taken care to hide the fact that the two magicians shared a bedroom from the rest of the household staff. Continuing to assist Norrell in bathing and dressing, Lucas minimized the possibility that one of the maids might witness some casual intimate gestures between the two magicians. Hence he knew well that the two usually rose at the same time.

Now Lucas was looking at Norrell with some concern. Early on, Strange had learned that Lucas was a sodomite and felt a protective attitude toward the two magicians somewhat akin to that of a mother hen. Norrell, however, had little notion of Lucas’ solicitude toward him and Strange, and he was rather puzzled as to why Lucas was looking at him in such a fashion.

Briefly flustered, Norrell shrugged and replied, “Yes, I believe he must have gone down to the library to look something up or write something down. He has probably become completely riveted on something fascinating he has run across. When we go down you should ring the gong to bring him out of his absorption.”

Lucas nodded, still looking a trifle worried, and held out the towel as Norrell climbed out of the tub.

Half an hour later Norrell went down to the dining room, hearing the sound of the small gong that they used as a five-minute warning before meals. The scent of bacon mingled with chocolate tickled his nose rather unpleasantly. He considered that those two odours should be as separate as possible, though he tolerated the bacon for Jonathan’s sake. He sat down and rang the small bell beside his place. Within a couple of minutes the servants were delivering his breakfast. 

As Lucy poured his chocolate, she asked, “Will Mr Strange be down soon, sir? I don’t want his meal to get cold. I can put his plate on the side of the stove to keep it warm if you like.”

Norrell looked toward the door. “Isn’t he in the library? He must have been so enthralled with something that he did not hear the gong. Lucas, can you call Mr Strange in for breakfast, please?” He smiled slightly. “Do not worry about interrupting him. Just tell him that I am responsible.”

Lucas nodded and went out. He soon returned, looking puzzled. “He’s not in the library, sir. Is there somewhere else that he might be? Shall I check upstairs?” He paused as Lucy left the room and then spoke softly. “Perhaps he might have gone back to his own bedroom.” He knew that Strange still kept his clothes there and used it to bathe and dress, giving the place a lived-in look for the benefit of the servants.

Norrell looked around helplessly. “Yes, I suppose you could check there. He seldom stays there for long, let alone this amount of time. He was not in our bedroom or bathroom when I awoke, and that is, oh, probably over half an hour ago now. If he is not in his bedroom or the library, I cannot imagine where he could be. Are you sure he did not go down to the cellars to fetch some supplies or something of the sort?”

Lucas went into the kitchen but soon returned to report that Mrs Greeley had not seen Mr Strange yet that morning, and the cellar door was still locked.

Norrell slowly ate his food, though with little appetite, as Lucas went up to Strange’s bedroom and then to inquire of Davey and the maids whether they had seen Strange that morning. When he returned, he said that none of them had. Lucas and Norrell stared at each other briefly, at a loss. Finally the two agreed to separate, Lucas checking the entire bedroom area upstairs and Norrell looking into the sitting-room and again the library. He also tested the shutting spell on the front door and found it still in place.

Over the next few hours, Strange’s absence became increasingly worrisome to all, and the servants joined in the search. They went into the many rooms of Hurtfew that had been shut up decades before, most of which had never been opened since. Lucas and Davey went into the cellar and took a long time making their way through its many dark corridors and shut-up storerooms. Norrell had trouble imagining why Jonathan would visit such places, but if he became obsessed with finding some odd object that he needed for a spell, he might search the house from top to bottom, heedless of how much time was passing.

When all of their efforts failed, Lucas could not but conclude that Strange was not in the house. He coordinated a systematic search of the outbuildings and park, with the servants fanning out and keeping within sight of each other as they slowly moved further from the house. The whole process was carried out quite slowly, since they had only candle- and lamp-light to guide them. Moreover, there were only four of them to cover the entire park, which meant they had to proceed in a zigzag pattern.

Norrell, who after the indoor search ended had sat down forlornly in his library, pulled himself together and decided to walk to the far boundary of the Darkness behind the stables. That was the direction in which Jonathan was least likely to go if he capriciously decided upon an unaccustomed early-morning walk, exiting through the kitchen door without leaving a note of explanation. Norrell’s hope was that he could get far enough from Jonathan, wherever he was, that one of the two would be jerked back together by their magical tether. He reached the edge of the Dark Tower, but no such thing happened. Slowly he circled the house, staying as far away from it as the area of the Darkness allowed, but always without any result. Surely at some point he must have got far enough from Jonathan to trigger the reunion spell.

For the first time it dawned on him that Jonathan might not be in the Darkness any longer, but after years of living under the strict rules of the original curse, that seemed impossible. Norrell thought frantically. Surely Jonathan would not suddenly devise a spell to free them from the Darkness and then proceed to cast it without so much as mentioning it to him. That went against everything that they had agreed on years before and all the plans for travel in the Darkness that they had made! Something must have gone badly wrong.

Norrell went back into the house to fetch the silver pitcher, filled it at the river and prepared to try and find Strange via his magical basin.

In the early days after their reunion and realization that they were trapped in the Darkness, Norrell had hypothesized that Jonathan’s Tower was a small part of Faerie that the Fairy had broken off and isolated as a sort of prison to trap Jonathan and punish him for his invasion of Lost-hope. Later he and Jonathan had used the location spell with the basin to try and confirm that. Sure enough, when Norrell named Jonathan aloud and divided the water into quarters representing Heaven, Hell, Earth and Faerie, a small, bright dot had appeared in the Faerie portion. Since then, they had seldom had occasion to use that spell. 

Now, however, Norrell prepared to cast it again. As he did so, his fearful imagination suggested to him that Jonathan might suddenly have decided to leave him and return to his wife. He had not been able to bring himself to say goodbye to Norrell and had left the Darkness and returned to England. Such an idea had not occurred to Norrell since that lovely night when Jonathan had parted from Mrs Strange, making a definitive break and committing himself to traveling around the world with his lover. That had finally convinced Norrell that Jonathan was his—and he, of course, was utterly Jonathan’s and had been for many years.

By the time he had muttered the spell, including Jonathan’s name, and divided the water into the basic Heaven, Hell, Earth and Faerie quadrants, he was dreading seeing Jonathan appear as a dot in the Earth one. He pictured himself proceeding to narrow the place down until he found Jonathan in London or Shropshire or wherever Mrs Strange was now living. Yet when that dot appeared, it was still in Faerie! 

Norrell smiled and breathed a deep sigh of relief. How foolish he had been to give in to his old jealous fears of Jonathan returning to his wife! That was all in the past, and the two magicians were bound together forever by love.

So, where WAS Jonathan? Despite the servants’ and his thorough search, had they somehow missed seeing him? Could there be some other magic spell at work, a more modest one? An invisibility spell of some sort? An accident in which he had fallen into an unknown place, an old well or some such, and was unable to get out?

Up to now they had simply searched for Jonathan. It occurred to Norrell that he might do better to try by searching for clues as to what the other magician had been doing early that morning. Filled with a new sense of purpose, he went up to Jonathan’s bedroom and looked around for any notes or books or other items that might hint at his activities.

There seemed to be none, however, in the bedroom itself. Norrell wandered into the small dressing room where Jonathan kept his clothes and changed into and out of them. He went over to Jonathan’s favourite jacket and stroked it softly, leaning forward to breathe in the man’s lingering scent. “This is getting me nowhere,” he thought sadly, and walked into the adjacent bathroom. His gaze at once fell upon a basin full of clean water with Jonathan’s razor, brush, cup and soap sitting beside it, unused.

As soon as he entered the small room, an eerie sensation caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. It didn’t seem to be someone performing magic and yet … it did not seem to be someone not performing magic. It was more, he thought, like the lingering aura of strong magic that had been done recently in the vicinity, probably within this very room. Who could have performed it? Jonathan was the obvious candidate, but whatever the spell had been, it was not good, staid, respectable magic and not even the rather daring, imaginative kind Jonathan still enjoyed. Something beyond that.

He found it hard to believe that Jonathan would secretly have been looking into the books on the “dangerous” shelf of the library without consulting him, let alone trying out the spells. And even if he had wished to do so, his bathroom was hardly the place to perform complicated magic.

As he stood thinking, the giddy, slightly nauseous sensation of magic increased, and he quickly left the bathroom and went back downstairs. He went to the kitchen and said to the cook, “Mrs Greeley, have you any dead plants about? Herbs for cooking, perhaps?”

“Oh, to be sure, sir. Needing something for your magic, are you? Would dried thyme do?” She pointed to some dry little plants hanging upside down on strings hanging within reach above a large countertop.

“Fine, yes, that will do, two of those, thank you,” he replied, and she pulled down two little sprigs of the herb and handed them to him.

Back in the library, Norrell arranged the thyme on either side of the mirror and spoke what had become one of his favorite spells—the one that had brought him and Jonathan together—“One spell to discover what My Enemy is doing Presently.” In this case, of course, he substituted “Friend” for enemy and added Strange’s name.

At first the images in the mirror were fuzzy and shifting, as if it were struggling to see a long distance and through some unyielding substance. Finally the scene resolved and he saw clearly. There was Jonathan, in his breeches, shirtsleeves, stockings, slippers and banyan, sitting with his legs stretched out and crossed. He looked completely healthy and beautiful, if not particularly happy, and Norrell again sighed deeply in relief. 

Something was extremely odd about him, though. Odd, quite apart from the fact that he clearly had not shaved that morning and in general was looking more rumpled than Norrell liked to see him—except after lively intimate exchanges, of course. No, it was more basic. His beauty and his rumpled state and everything about him were overwhelmingly visible. He was brightly lit. He was sitting not in candlelight or lamplight or firelight but in sunshine. He was outside the Darkness.

Norrell’s mouth dropped slightly open and he blinked rapidly, partly at the unaccustomedly bright light shining up out of the mirror and partly in an attempt to grasp this momentous change. Jonathan was no longer in the Darkness. Had he indeed found a text which could counteract the spell that held him prisoner in the Darkness and then spoken it? Had he left for good? It occurred to him, however, that Jonathan might have decided to test the spell, assuming that he could then return to the Darkness and proudly announce to Norrell what he had accomplished. Yes, that made some sense. It was upsetting that he would not say something to prevent Norrell from worrying about him, but then Jonathan, considerate and sweet and thoroughly adorable though he was, might simply not think about such concerns if he were truly caught up in the excitement of a momentous magical achievement.

After his initial relief and surprise, something else occurred to Norrell. If Jonathan had escaped the Darkness, why would he go to another part of Faerie rather than back to England? His puzzlement returned. 

The answer was provided immediately as a striking-looking woman swept into view behind Jonathan. She was pacing rather grandly about what appeared from the little he could see to be a large, somewhat unkempt courtyard, dank-looking and decorated with plants that were vaguely familiar to Norrell, including some that he associated with gathering from riverbanks for magical purposes. He turned the mirror slightly to follow her and saw that part of the courtyard was occupied by a dark pond with more plants growing out of it. She was talking animatedly to Jonathan—though of course this spell conveyed only images, not sounds, to its caster.

She was a very beautiful woman with pale skin and large, limpid eyes, and a fine aquiline nose. Her hair, however, distracted one from her face. It was a mixture of grey and white and yellow, and it hovered and slowly drifted about her head like thick, sunlit fog in a high mountain pass. Her gown seemed at first to be made of innumerable narrow pleats, but a closer look revealed them to be tiny waves of water, all flowing in one direction, counterclockwise around her skirt as if part of a steadily incoming tide in a vast ocean, circling her body in ceaseless motion. Jonathan glanced at her now and then as she strode around him, but he always looked away again, as if the activity of her dress confused his eyes. He appeared to be trying to act quite insouciant and unconcerned, wearing a fixed, polite smile, but Norrell could tell that underneath he was wary and thinking fast.

Norrell sat down with a thump in a chair. All the bones in his body seemed to have dissolved away for all the good they did in supporting him. She was a Fairy!

“Oh, no,” he whispered weakly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Strange woke up abruptly, his eyes staring into the back of Norrell’s head, his mind abuzz with what he suspected might be the solution to their problems with telling time in the Darkness. He had thought vaguely about the subject shortly before going to bed, and clearly his mind had been working on it while he slept. For nearly three years now they had used the cumbersome method of casting a spell over a mirror to allow them to see a local clock-tower. His new idea would allow them to tell time with more portable objects and a briefer spell.

The pair had developed a feeling of the cycle of the hours that gave them a general sense of what time it was. Now Strange reckoned it was probably four or five in the morning, well before their usual waking time. In his excitement over his new idea, he doubted that he could fall back asleep. For a while he simply lay there, enjoying the bundle of cuteness that was Gilbert Norrell, snoring softly in his arms. He was not permitted to use the adjectival form of that word—or indeed any form of it—in conversation as a way of describing his lover. That couldn’t stop him, though, from thinking it any number of times a day. At least he could now call Gilbert “adorable” out loud. Small comforts, he thought to himself with a fond little smile. Odd how he occasionally found things about Gilbert adorable that he would have considered irritating in Bell.

However pleasant it was to lie embracing his lover in this warm, comfortable bed, Strange could not continue to do so for three or four hours, not with this new idea bouncing around in his mind. And if he did fall asleep, perhaps the idea might manage to bounce out of it altogether. He had to write out some notes, ponder it further, perhaps draft the actual spell. Gilbert would needed to admit that that was necessary. If he were awake now, he would in fact insist upon Strange recording it immediately. He could hardly complain if he woke up alone for once. 

Carefully Strange extracted himself from the embrace and the bed and, casting a muffling spell to hide the soft noises his feet were bound to make on the old floorboards of the room, he crossed to the door and went out. He went to his own bedroom, which he used only to bathe and dress and occasionally to sleep in if he or Gilbert were ill. He dressed partially, putting on a banyan over his shirtsleeves and slippers over his stockings, and laid out his shaving supplies.

Just as he was pouring the water into the basin, he became aware that he was not alone. Not alone in quite a frightening and undesirable way. He put down the pitcher with a thump and spun around. Before him stood the self-same female Fairy that Norrell was to view some hours later in his magic mirror. Every detail of her was quite clear, in part because the three candles Strange had lit reflected dizzyingly in the tiny moving waves that encircled her and in part because she had a glow of her own. His heart was beating rapidly, initially from startlement and then from fear.

The Fairy was stunningly beautiful, but in a way that Strange did not find pleasant at all. Her expression as she gazed back at him was a slight smile, radiating delight and a decidedly smug satisfaction. It reminded him of an expression he had once seen on Bell’s face when he had finally succumbed to his pleadings and bought her an obnoxiously cute (not adorably cute, like Gilbert!), yappy young dog that she had taken an unreasonable liking to. In the case of the Fairy, it was an expression that did not bode well for him.

After examining him thoroughly, even walking around him and looking him up and down, she stopped and said flirtatiously, “Mr Strange. Mr Jonathan Strange. What a charming name for a Christian! Perhaps you have some Fairy ancestry, do you think? A certain wild look in your eye suggests it.”

Suppressing a few witty but undoubtedly unwise replies, Strange said, “I doubt that very much, madame, though I thank you for your flattering and kind surmise. But you have the advantage of me. May I know your name?” He hardly expected her to reply, at least, not with the truth, since a Fairy would never reveal her real name to a Christian.

“Oh, my name is of no consequence whatsoever! You may call me … oh, what? I know!” she laughed as if very pleased with herself. “ʻLady Turn-of-Tide.’ Rather mellifluous, and clever as well, or do you not catch the jest?” She spun about, and her full skirt flared slightly as the tiny waves continued to flow around it.

“Ah, yes! Turn, tide, yes. Very clever.” He nodded, with a tight little smile. Personally he subscribed to the late Dr Johnson’s opinion that puns were the lowest form of humour. Of course, he had made many of them in his day, being irresistibly drawn to humourous remarks, but he avoided them when he could think of something better.

“There, I am delighted that we meet formally at last! Perhaps you remember our one previous brief encounter.”

“I fancy that I glimpsed you at Lost-hope on the single occasion that I visited there. I had so little time to make the acquaintances of any one present on that memorable night.”

“Yes, what a pity! I gather that you had drawn the wrath of _______.” Here she pronounced a name that he could not clearly hear or understand, but he presumed she referred to the being that Gilbert and he between themselves typically referred to as “Our Fairy.” In correspondence he had noticed that some called the same personage ‘The Gentleman.’ The Lady went on, “All too easy to do, of course. Rumour had it that one of the enchanted Christians present at Lost-hope was your wife and that you had come to rescue her. A quest that speaks more for your bravery than your wisdom. It would be a doomed attempt for nearly any of the Fey Folk, let alone a Christian.”

“No doubt, though I actually was not there to rescue her, not having being aware at the time that she was alive and in the brugh. I came there … well, it matters little why. I drew his wrath indeed, and the result was that he cast a curse upon me. I still live under some of the conditions of it.” He gestured around at the dimly lit room.

She surveyed it with disdain. “How utterly dreary! Yes, a very unpleasant curse. Not only deprived of the sun, but trapped here with only one other for company, apart from the servants. Your lover, the Other Magician, is one whom ______ [that incomprehensible name again] often railed against and described as surpassingly stupid and ugly.” She shook her head sympathetically. “I waited until you left his bedroom in order to avoid laying eyes upon him. I am afraid ______ referred to you as stupid and ugly as well, though he specified that you were considerably less so than the Other Magician.”

Strange bridled as much as he dared under the circumstances. “Actually, I do not consider Mr Norrell at all stu—”

She interrupted him with another laugh that, coming from a being less eerily threatening than she, might have been described as musical. “No matter! Having seen you, I of course knew that you were far from ugly.” She simpered slightly, and a cold shudder passed up Strange’s spine. “My further investigations revealed to me that you are not even particularly stupid, considering the inferior race to which you belong. Oh, yes, I have studied you quite thoroughly since that meeting, wanting to be sure that I had chosen a suitably attractive and witty Christian to make my own. Now I have come to release you from the Darkness and take you to my realm to be my gallant companion. Despite the fact that you have such a rudimentary knowledge of magic, your obvious natural talent—for how could you have made your way alone to Lost-hope without such talent—makes you a promising person to live with me in Faerie. You shall accompany me to revels at my own house and those of my many friends, and you shall share my bed.”

“No! Wait, I …” Strange burst out. He paused, breathing deeply, his hands clenched, and resumed cautiously, “My dear madame, I … I appreciate your interest in me and your kind offer, but Mr … that is, I have become quite used to the Darkness. In fact, it seems to be a sort of spell arranged for me by John Uskglass himself. He apparently intends for me and … for Mr Norrell as well, odd though that may seem … to stay within it and work together on various, um, projects that the Raven King may wish us to—”

Lady Turn-of-Tide laughed yet again, but this time she conveyed dismissive but amused scorn. “So you may believe, Mr Strange, but do you have any proof?”

Strange thought frantically. It was true that Gilbert and he had read much into what could have been coincidences, and they had put hopeful constructions on events that might be interpreted in quite different ways. Still, surely there had been things … “Well, there is the Raven King’s own archway, added to the entrance to the Hurtfew estate. A sign of protection, of his interest in the Darkness and in us. Nearly three years ago he called our attention to an important translation spell which we have tested and which should prove useful in our future travels.1 He, um …”

“Well, do you really think the King would have done all this for you if he intended for you to sit comfortably for years here in a small city in Germany, enjoying your research and the highly dubious charms of your little lover?” Before Strange could answer, she abruptly grasped his hand and again turned with a flourish, saying, “I hardly think so, and you could be in so much pleasanter circumstances with me.”

Strange was suddenly plunged into a blinding light and clapped his hands over his eyes. He waited, hearing a little sympathetic tsk-ing from the lady. “Ah, yes, you can hardly be accustomed to the beautiful light of day. Take your time. Your eyes will become used to it, and you will see many splendid things that you have missed in your perpetually midnight world.”

Very gradually Strange allowed his fingers to part and his eyes to adjust to the increasing amount of light. Finally he was able to lower his hands altogether and look about himself. He was in the courtyard of a large castle—a very old one which had been kept in reasonable repair. Most of the floor was occupied by a large, round pond, which contained a myriad of water-plants, everything from graceful water lilies of very peculiar colours to some rather slimy looking scum. The sorts of trees typically found on the banks of rivers grew in square openings in the pavement, and the old stones of the wall were so thickly covered in moss that the whole courtyard, apart from the flagstone floor and the dark surface of the water, was green. It smelled slightly of rotting vegetation, which, mixed with the scent of the lilies, was decidedly unpleasant. 

While Lady Turn-of-Tide had been waiting, she had squatted down by the water’s edge and was talking to an otter that had its front paws up on one of the flagstones. She appeared to be heaping endearments upon it, like a favorite pet, and it fell backward and frolicked briefly in the water before disappearing below it.

The Lady rose, turned and smiled at him. “Feeling better, Mr Strange? Or really, now that we are so thoroughly acquainted and are soon to be lovers, I should call you ‘Jonathan.’ A peculiar and rather awkward name, but I find it oddly charming, so I won’t change it. Now, I shall show you your new home and your room.”

Strange could hardly refuse, but he was having increasing difficulty hiding his panic. He simply nodded and followed after her.

She spent a long time taking him through the castle, which contained an astonishing number of rooms, including a dining room with a lengthy table (“That will be your place, directly on my right, of course.”) and a ballroom. The latter reminded him of the one he had seen so briefly at Lost-hope, but here instead of a tree there was a fountain in the center, with an enormous basin and a central jet of water that nearly reached the high ceiling. Small puddles lay on the floor near to the basin. Indeed, the entire castle seemed dank to him, as if over the millennia the very stones had gradually been saturated by the pervasive water. And Lady Turn-of-Tide had disdainfully referred to the Darkness as dreary! Strange longed to be back in it, thinking of how cozy and safe and delightful it had been, sharing it with Gilbert.

All through the tour Strange kept an eye open for any possible means of escape. His first thought was that if he could somehow get onto the King’s Roads, he might possibly find his way back to Hurtfew. Since their entrapment, neither he nor Gilbert had ever attempted to go through the mirrors of the house, thinking it too risky. If the Darkness really was a self-enclosed part of Faerie, cut off from it entirely, those Roads would probably not be there. If they were, however, they would almost certainly not lead to the rest of Faerie but to some completely unknown realm—or perhaps they would simply wind about and ultimately return to Hurtfew. The idea of going behind the mirrors and somehow getting completely cut off from the Darkness was terrifying to them both. Gilbert had made Strange promise solemnly that he never would try to find the King’s Roads, and Strange gladly did so, not being eager to venture there himself after their experiences on the Night of the Disenchantment. In his current situation, however, Strange wondered if it might be worth the risk. He speculated as to whether he might at least be able to reach England and then, odd though it might seem, re-enter the Darkness in order to rejoin Gilbert.

At least, he thought, even if it took him years to make his way back, he would not find that Gilbert had aged any more than he had. Trapped in two separate parts of Faery. He felt near despair.

At last the pair reached the room that Strange was to occupy. It was large and airy, if damper than he would have preferred. Its sole window looked out over the courtyard and its pond—a view that in ordinary circumstances could have been quite pleasant. No window, however, faced the exterior of the castle, where he might have caught a glimpse of the nearby terrain and possibly even seen a Fairy Road.

The room was luxuriously appointed, with a large bed, chests and an armoire, chairs and tables, as well as wall hangings and paintings that much resembled illustrations from the older books of magic in Gilbert’s and his library. At a quick glance, they did not appear very soothing. 

The bed was heaped with an enormous number of jackets, breeches, shirts, vests and accessories, all of the latest fashion. The clothes were mostly made in shades of green. Not the bright, springlike green that Strange remembered his and Gilbert’s Fairy as having worn, but a deeper, darker color, as of plants that grow below the surface in rivers. They were elegant, superbly tailored and made of rich materials, but more melancholy in hue than he would ordinarily have preferred. Looking at the Lady, he maintained his strategy of wearing the slightest of polite smiles and refraining from comment as much as possible. Inside he was screaming in protest against his enchantment, but he knew that protest could only lead to danger, friendly though the Lady had been so far. Fairies, he knew, could be extremely changeable in their moods.

Seeing Strange in the room where she intended to keep him, like a lap-dog in a kennel, Lady Turn-of-Tide smiled and began to pick up garment after garment, holding each against his chest or waist and expressing pleasure each time. Indeed, even without trying the clothes on, Strange suspected that they would fit perfectly. Most of them seemed designed for evening wear, and much that he had read of dreary, endless “Fairy revels” and repellent Fairy food came into his mind.

As the Lady continued to try the garments against Strange’s person, she commented delightedly, “Oh, everything is going exactly as I had hoped. Really, I suspect that some of my friends will be quite charmed by you and surprised to hear that you are not a Fairy. No doubt I shall be the object of considerable envy for possessing a Christian who is quite as beautiful as one of us!”

She obviously intended this as a compliment, but Strange found it most unnerving. Perhaps the Lady had some intention of casting a spell over him to make him accept this new life that she intended for him, but he certainly was not going to let her seduce him into thinking that life pleasant. He would naturally do everything he could to escape, and presumably he would succeed someday. He had to. He had to return to Gilbert and the Darkness and their blissful life together and their plans for the future. He clenched his teeth and resolutely maintained his little smile. For the short term, he would resist agreeing to anything, since he had learned the hard way that Fairies were perfectly capable of seizing upon casual remarks and treating them as binding magical contracts.

The Lady finally had gone through all the clothes and had pointed out the attractions of the room. She sighed and approached him. “Now, I interrupted you at your toilet, and you will no doubt wish to bathe and shave and do whatever else it is that you Christians must do to make yourselves attractive. If you need to sleep a little, a bell will ring to wake you in time to dress for the evening’s entertainment. Lavish feasting, entrancing music and dancing late into the night. And after that, well …” She looked at him coyly.

As she moved toward the door, she paused and kissed his cheek. Her lips were icy and caused a strange tingling that was anything but pleasant. She sighed and looked with a languorous smile into his face and said in a purring voice, “Now, is that not more pleasing than the caresses of a shriveled little bookworm such as the Other Magician?”

As before, Strange gave no sign of agreement, other than his fixed, tiny smile. The Lady looked around complacently, clearly convinced that she had offered Strange an enticing existence, and departed.

Strange stared after her. Naturally he had not dared to pull away from her kiss and reject her outright—still less to declare that yes, he vastly preferred the caresses of that … He clenched his teeth again, and tears threatened to come to his eyes. That adorable little bookworm, whom he longed more than anything in the world to see and embrace, and, he had to admit to himself, hide alongside in bed under the covers for a few days. And unless he, shut off from all books and notes concerning magic, managed to pluck from his memory a spell that could free him from this enchanted place, a bookworm upon whom his freedom and happiness now entirely depended. 

Sighing, Strange disconsolately set about bathing and shaving. He found the bath water pleasantly warm—the perfect temperature, in fact. The razor, brush and soap were all of superb quality, and he soon was looking clean and respectable.

He lay down on the bed but felt no inclination to sleep. This whole disastrous event had come as such a shocking surprise. He and Gilbert had never conceived of the idea that one of them might be kidnapped by a Fairy. They had never discussed what they might do in such a dire situation, much less devised a contingency plan in case such a thing ever happened. Strange realized that they had trusted too much in the protection of John Uskglass—whose interest in him and Gilbert and his favours to them Strange still firmly believed in, whatever the Lady might claim.

Then his own words to Gilbert when they first reunited on the Night of the Disenchantment came back to him. “John Uskglass. He could not prevent fairies from stealing away Christian men and women. Why should I suppose that I might be capable of something he was not?” And if Uskglass could not prevent Fairy abductions hundreds of years ago, in the heyday of English magic, how could he do so now?

It would take a miracle to free him, and he only hoped that Gilbert was master magician enough to accomplish such a thing. But whatever his other skills and virtues, Gilbert was the most timid man he had ever met. Could he somehow find the courage within himself to make the attempt at a rescue? And if he did, could he possibly find a means to succeed? 

Strange lay on the bed, dreading the moment when the bell would ring summoning him to find out at last exactly what Fairy revels were like. The revels, however, were not nearly as daunting a prospect as was the thought of what the Lady would expect of him afterwards. He was determined not to betray his pledge to be faithful to Gilbert, but presumably the Lady’s magic could force him to react with desire, whether he wished to or not. That chilling kiss had been the opposite of arousing, but the Lady was not going to accept any reluctance. What would Gilbert think if he realized that Strange had betrayed him with this wretched woman? 

“Gilbert, please!” he whispered softly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

1The incident of John Uskglass apparently assisting Strange and Norrell to rediscover an ancient translation spell is recorded in “The Toasts of Venice.”


	2. Mr Strange commences a courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Norrell tries to summon the courage to go into Faerie to rescue Mr Strange. Mr Strange suffers a shock when served an odd version of cauliflower a la Flamond at Lady Turn-of-Tide's banquet; he tries to convince the ardent lady that Christians require a very long courtship before intimacy.

The searches for Strange, inside Hurtfew Abbey and then in the park, had taken hours. It had been mid-afternoon before Norrell cast his mirror spell and discovered that Strange had been kidnapped by a Fairy. A beautiful Lady Fairy.

He had no idea how long he sat slumped in his chair, stunned by his realization that he might never see his lover again. He was too devastated and terrified to think beyond that realization.

At about 4 o’clock Lucas knocked softly on the library door and, without waiting to be permitted to enter, came in carrying a tray with some cold meat, fruit, sweet biscuits and tea. He looked sympathetically at his master and put the tray on the table beside the mirror and the sprigs of thyme. Norrell stirred slightly but made no effort to sit up and prepare to eat the food. He seemed barely aware of Lucas’ presence.

Lucas waited briefly before saying, “Sir, you must eat something. You must keep your strength up, if not for yourself, then for him.”

Norrell looked up at him. “Must I? What difference does it make? He’s gone.”

“Gone, sir? Where? Have you located him?” Lucas glanced at the mirror.

Norrell hesitated. During his travels in the Darkness with the servants, he had gradually become somewhat more sociable with them, and although he was not as friendly with Lucas as Strange was, he had to some extent accepted the man as a sort of substitute for Childermass.

“Yes. I have discovered that he was abducted by a Fairy Lady. He is a captive in her castle in Faerie. Frankly, I see no possibility of getting him back.”

Lucas blanched. “But … but surely, sir … such a great magician as you are, you can retrieve him.”

Norrell shook his head, tears in his eyes. “I doubt it, Lucas. Fairy abductions are impossible to prevent, and they are nearly impossible to remedy. I cannot imagine how I could gain Mr Strange’s freedom.”

Lucas stared at him uncertainly. Finally he said, “Well, if you cannot, then no one can. But I hope you will not give up on him, sir. At any rate, please eat something and keep thinking on the matter.”

Norrell nodded vaguely, already lost again in his despair. He barely noticed as Lucas added coal to the fire, lit a few more candles and went out.

After a few minutes, Norrell looked up at the food and drew his chair closer to the table so that he could nibble at some of it. For Jonathan’s sake, yes, Lucas was right. He should keep his strength up. What he could do for Jonathan, he couldn’t imagine, but maybe something would occur to him.

After finishing what he could of the meal, Norrell went to one of the shelves and pulled out a book that dealt with Fairy abductions and sat down on the sopha before the fire. Rather than sitting up properly and opening it, however, he flopped back and again sat slumped and hopeless. His arm dropped to his side, still holding the book, which sat accusingly on the cushion. He didn’t care. He almost ached, he missed Jonathan so much. They had come together so quickly and unexpectedly after what had seemed an eternity of fruitless longing. That Jonathan should disappear so suddenly seemed unbearable, and yet there he was, having to bear it.

He tried to focus his mind on the problem of rescuing Jonathan, but his despair clouded his thoughts, which wandered in winding paths in his misery over having lost the man he loved.

For some reason yearning for Jonathan led him to wonder how much of his adoration of the other magician had resulted simply from the man’s beauty. Was he so shallow a character as to be swayed by such superficial qualities in another person? Obviously he loved Jonathan for his magical talents and ability to converse with him endlessly on the subject, as well as his sparkling personality and his bravery and originality and any number of other traits made him so nearly perfect. But deep down, was the beauty a major factor?

Dim recollections of the many men he had met over the course of his social and professional life in London drifted through his thoughts. Of course he had enjoyed looking at handsome men in the street or in crowds at parties. Once in a while one was even seated next to him at dinner, where he had a good excuse to stare, as if he were paying close attention to whatever it was the fellow was saying. Everyone enjoyed looking at beautiful things, both objects and other people. But he could not recollect ever seriously considering any of those beautiful people as someone that he might actually go to bed with, just because they were so good-looking.

On rare occasions, however, he had felt attracted in that way to men. He would meet other bibliophiles in bookshops, for example, and fall into discussions about their collections. During one such conversation the man had been so agreeable and interesting that Norrell had covertly surveyed his physical appearance. Despite the fact that it was quite ordinary, he found himself vaguely wishing they could become much better acquainted, possibly even intimately so. He had been tempted to invite the fellow to take tea with him, but ultimately parted with him not having done so. His fears of indignant rejection if the man did not share his tastes held him back. And even if the man should turn out to be of a similar inclination, the horrible legal punishments for such behaviour had restrained him.

At other times he had felt similar slight stirrings of desire. Usually not over physical beauty but because, for example, someone at a party, while knowing little about magic, showed an intelligent interest in the sorts of spells Norrell was using in his service to the war effort. In such a situation, his tongue became untied, and he could carry on what seemed in retrospect to him the sort of normal conversation that other people could produce effortlessly. He actually regretted parting from such men, though they, too, were seldom of more than average looks. Once during the after-dinner dancing at a party he had found himself standing next to another man obviously as bored by the whole proceeding as he was. They had fallen into a lengthy conversation about how tedious such affairs were. He had been reluctant to part with this fellow, though he, too, Norrell reflected, was like himself, possessed of few personal attractions. 

He remembered once sitting at a particularly endless dinner and observing Sir Walter Pole’s face. Once Sir Walter had gained a deep gratitude toward Norrell and promoted his efforts endlessly and frequently invited him to his house or dined at Hanover-square, Norrell found himself rather wishing that Sir Walter had not married—even though his impending marriage had been the cause of the spell that led Sir Walter to treasure Norrell’s magic and enhance his reputation. And yet Sir Walter was not in his eyes, or in the eyes of very many people, at all handsome. He had a distinguished and striking face, to be sure, but not one likely to please the ladies … or the gentlemen of Norrell’s own persuasion.

No, he concluded, he did not demand beauty as a condition of feeling attraction or love for another. To his relief, he decided that he was not that frivolous a person. He was simply extraordinarily lucky in having found an undeniably unique combination of beauty and wit and charm and magical talent in a single person who also happened to be capable of returning his own love and devotion.

It had seemed too good to be true, and now it was. 

Norrell looked around at the dimly lit room. Why had he ever thought the Darkness was so pleasant a place to be trapped? Because it had brought Jonathan to him and kept him here, embracing them both, sheltered from the world. Now Jonathan was gone forever.

Or was he? Lucas’ words came back to him. “Such a great magician as you are, you can retrieve him.”

Norrell thought, “No, you don’t understand. No one can rescue someone kidnapped by a Fairy. At least, not without the help of some powerful force like the Raven King. I … I can’t imagine doing it on my own.” After another minute or two of consideration, he finally roused himself slightly. It seemed impossible, but he knew he had to get Jonathan back, at any cost to himself. He had to rescue him. He, who had always been so fearful and who had delighted in finding a lover who enjoyed protecting him, realized that there was no choice in the matter. He had to do what he had to do. For Jonathan’s sake, of course, but also to deliver himself from a potential life of loneliness and regret.

He sat up suddenly. By now he was so accustomed to being surrounded by perpetual night that a striking development in his situation had not occurred to him. He spoke his perplexity aloud, softly. “Why is the Darkness here and not with Jonathan?” It occurred to him that possibly the fact has some significance for his ability to find the other magician.

After all, it had been Jonathan’s curse to begin with, to live in the Darkness for an indefinite but presumably very long time. Norrell’s entrapment in it had merely been an accident, at least as far as the caster of the curse was concerned—or would have been concerned, had he not been killed before he could discover it. The Fairy had had no way of knowing that Strange would learn to move the Darkness and take it to Yorkshire and plant it right on top of Norrell’s home, thus entangling him in the curse.

Something had allowed Jonathan to leave. It wasn’t something Norrell or Jonathan had done. The Gentleman was dead. John Uskglass could but probably would not remove Jonathan from the Darkness. He seemingly wanted the two magicians to remain there. The only obvious candidate was that dreadful woman he had seen in the glass, the Fairy. She had wanted Jonathan, but she didn’t want the Darkness enveloping her castle. Perhaps she had even somehow realized that if she brought the Darkness to her home, Norrell might come with it. So she had somehow extracted Jonathan from it. 

Now that Norrell was not linked to Jonathan any more, might he find a similar way to leave the Darkness and follow Strange and rescue him?

All right, that was one factor he might have to research, though he wasn’t sure whether his own departure from the Darkness would help him in this situation. In fact, he reminded himself, the Darkness was one source of their power. It allowed them to move around the Earth, taking Hurtfew with them. 

The other obvious way for traveling into Faerie would be via the King’s Roads. The very thought terrified Norrell. Strange had ventured onto those roads and had found his way to Lost-hope and as a result had ended up cursed in the Darkness. What if he himself went out onto the King’s Roads, rescued Jonathan and was unable to bring them back to Hurtfew? They might be trapped in Faerie forever, wandering, lost and despairing.

No, the King’s Roads were not an option, or at least, they were not until he had exhausted every other possibility. He instinctively felt that he must depend on the Darkness to help him rescue Jonathan.

That meant trying to move the Darkness into Faerie, to the castle of that dreadful Lady Fairy. He and Jonathan had never dared to try moving it into Faerie, since that seemed fairly clearly to be impossible under the premises of the curse. Whether John Uskglass had removed that provision was unknown. Norrell decided he would probably have to take his courage, such as it was, in his hands and finally find out whether the Darkness could in fact be moved into Faerie.

He wasn’t sure whether he was pleased or not that the Lady Fairy seemed to have broken the magical bond that forced him and Jonathan to keep within a certain fairly short distance apart. At first he had welcomed that enforced closeness, for, he had to admit to himself, he feared that Jonathan might leave him if given the chance. By now, however, having been together with the other magician for about three years, he had no doubt that Jonathan and he were bound together by their genuine and deep love for each other. Thinking it over, he did not feel any great compulsion to re-establish that invisible magic chord that linked them, although he would not particularly mind it. He simply wanted Jonathan back in the Darkness and in Hurtfew.

It briefly entered his mind that he could consult with the Brothers Grimm and ask their advice. Upon reflection, however, that seemed like a waste of precious time. The Grimms, although brilliant in their explorations of German and Scandinavian magic, were theoretical magicians. What he had to confront was obviously pure English magic, about which the Grimms knew little apart from what Norrell and Strange had discussed with them. 

He stood up and faced the fact that he alone could rescue Jonathan. He picked up the book from the sopha and began to gather other books from the shelves, books he had not looked into in many years. Books that he had seldom taken seriously as sources for spells that he would dare to cast. Fairy spells.

About twenty minutes later he had brought quite a few books over to the large central table. As he contemplated which ones to begin with, however, he suddenly realized that he already has used one Fairy spell very effectively--the summoning spell from THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS that he and Jonathan had used to make the stones and water and plants and other natural elements all bow down to John Ukglass. Somehow that homage had apparently induced Uskglass to kill the Fairy King of Lost-hope. 

Suppose he rewrote that spell to make all those natural elements bow down to himself? He thought back to the vision of the Lady’s castle he had seen in the mirror. The natural stone blocks of which the castle was built. The water in the pond he had glimpsed. The many plants growing in and around it. Perhaps he could address the spell to them. What would happen as a result he was not quite sure. 

Norrell realized that he would need to thoroughly rewrite the spell, eliminating all references to John Uskglass. He certainly wanted to avoid the chaos of the previous time when all those horrible visions plagued Strange and him—and Uskglass himself looked in upon them with his giant raven’s eye. He winced at the memory. At any rate, he suspected that Uskglass would not help him this time. He had to deal with Jonathan’s abduction himself.

Assuming he could gain the cooperation of the natural elements, how could he use it? He mustn’t simply rush in and somehow defeat the Lady and escape with Jonathan. She would surely seek revenge on them or urge her friends to do so. He had to defeat her without hurting her and force her into a completely foolproof, unbreakable contract to return Jonathan to him without any repercussions. But how? He fretted, for planning such a complex undertaking would require time, and he had no idea what would happen to poor Jonathan in the interval. He had to be extremely careful, however, for moving the Darkness into Faerie proper, somehow forcing the Lady to surrender Jonathan and then making her agree to such a contract would be fiendishly difficult.

He removed some of the books he had laid out so that he could concentrate on those that might help to enhance and specify the spell he had found in Lancaster, the one he believed to have originated with the great Aureate Thomas Godbless. 

Norrell worked for hours, stopping only briefly to eat a simple supper Lucas brought to him late in the evening. He kept going deep into the night, making notes and outlines, drafting brief passages for the multiple spells he could need to cast. Occasionally ideas for the contract also occurred to him, and he started a list of them. 

Well past midnight Lucas came in and found him nodding in his chair, exhausted. He touched his master’s shoulder gently. Norrell sat up straighter and looked at him blearily.

“You must go to bed, sir. You can’t keep on like this. It’s not helping him, you know, if you’re so tired you can’t think straight.”

“It all has to be perfect,” Norrell replied hoarsely, “or both he and I will be trapped, perhaps killed.”

Lucas looked shocked, but he took Norrell’s arm and helped him up. “All the more reason you should sleep, sir. You can only make it perfect if you have your wits about you.”

Norrell nodded reluctantly. Lucas helped his master upstairs and put him to bed, where he slept fitfully for a few hours. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Despite his fear and anxiety, Strange also eventually drifted off for a nap before dinner. A few hours later he started awake upon hearing a loud, low, reverberating gong ring. Nothing like the pleasant little gong that the servants rang to summon the two magicians for meals at Hurtfew. He looked around and sighed.

Strange rose and quickly donned one of the green outfits that Lady Turn-of-Tide had provided. As he had expected, it fit perfectly and was quite comfortable as well. As he had already discovered, there were no mirrors in his room, apart from a very small one in the bathroom which he had used for shaving. No escaping via the King’s Roads for him, even if he had the courage to try it. From what he could see in the shaving mirror, he looked quite dashing. Apart from the few strands of grey in his hair, he could be a young suitor coming to call. This thought suddenly led to an idea that he stood still to ponder briefly before making his way to the dining room.

There were a number of odd-looking people standing about, waiting for the signal to sit at the table. Strange thought he might have seen some of them during his ill-fated visit to Lost-hope, but the woman he had danced with there was not among them. There were not nearly enough of them to fill the table’s considerable length, he noted. All of the Fairies turned when he entered and looked at him curiously, some with skeptical looks, others with cautiously friendly expressions. Lady Turn-of-Tide was chatting with one of them but upon seeing the crowd’s attention diverted she looked toward Strange.

She came quickly over to him, taking his hand and announcing, “My friends, I would like you to meet my new companion, Mr Jonathan Strange.” She proceeded to name the others off in turn, as each inclined his or her head in acknowledgement of the introduction. When she had finished, she led Strange to the head of the table, where, as promised, he sat upon her right. Upon his right was a pretty lady, somewhat younger-looking than Lady Turn-of-Tide, though Strange imagined that she could still be hundreds of years old. She smiled and nodded politely at him.

As soon as all the guests had settled into their chairs, the first course was served. The others had some sort of fowl that he did not recognize, with particularly long legs. It was stewed in a sauce that was black and full of mushrooms that Strange suspected might be poisonous to Christians. 

To his relief, the servant who delivered his plate said respectfully, “For you, sir, a beef-steak. Englishmen are particularly fond of beef-steak, I believe.”

Strange grinned. “We are indeed!” His face fell as the man placed the plate before him. The steak was generous and looked commendably streaky, but it was swimming in a bright red sauce. From the smell he could tell it was primarily composed of cherries. He noticed that the Lady was looking at him expectantly.

“It looks delicious!” he managed to say.

“English Christians are, I believe, very fond of sweet things. I pointed that out to the cook. He told me that he had found a receipt for a sauce that would add that sort of flavor to the beef.”

Strange nodded and cut a small slice of the meat. He could hardly scrape off the sauce, so he swirled the bit of meat through the bright red puddle and ate it. The sauce was so sweet that it completely overpowered the beef—which, he had to admit, looked as though it might be quite pleasant on its own. 

The Lady ate a bite of the exotic bird and then looked at him all too devotedly. “So, Jonathan, we shall enjoy this lovely dinner and afterward dance in the ballroom next door. Do not fear that I shall force you to dance the entire night away. I am entirely aware from my observations at Lost-hope that Christians do not bear up well under such prolonged pleasure. Besides, I am eager to sample the joys you can provide me in bed.”

Strange smiled and nodded, but he sought to forestall any further conversation along those lines. After finishing another bite of his steak, he said the first thing that popped into his mind.

“My dear Lady, it is remarkable to be talking to someone who was present at the occasion of my being put into the curse of Darkness by the … the Gentleman we call him.”

“Yes, I believe some of the Christians in the brugh called him that as well.”

“I see. Well, I was wondering what happened to all the rest of the guests, including you, just before he cast that spell. Every one simply disappeared, except for the Gentleman and me and a strange fellow who resembled the butler of a friend of mine in London. I took him to be a Fairy enchanted to look like that butler or some other sort of magical illusion—though for what purpose I have no idea. At one point he tried to warn me to leave, but I paid him no heed thereafter.”

She smiled. “I believe I can enlighten you on both accounts. First, the guests were all whisked back to our own homes, or, in the cases of the residents of Lost-hope, to their rooms. I was suddenly back here and glad of it. I had witnessed enough acts of cruelty and revenge by the … Gentleman, as you call him. I wondered what you could possibly have done to make him so very angry with you. Moreover, at the time, I thought you were a Fairy yourself.”

“Really? Oh, I suppose it was the, uh, appearance and manner I had taken on in the months before I came to Lost-hope.” Strange thought back to the long, wild hair, unkempt clothing and mad expression that could well have made him resemble a Fairy. He supposed that he had not been much odder looking than the guests he had seen in the ballroom.

“Yes, you were quite an intriguing figure, and I was astonished to discover that you were instead a Christian. As to your mention of the man who resembled your friend’s butler, that is exactly who he was, assuming that your reference is to Lady Pole’s husband. I believe shortly after Lady Pole started attending our revels, Stephen Black did as well. Indeed, he had rapidly become a special favourite of the Gentleman, though I don’t know how. Certainly Stephen was very much welcomed by the other guests as well. He was a superb dancer, quite polite and very handsome. We also admired his efforts in support of Lady Pole. Many of us felt quite sorry for her, miserable as she was under her enchantment. I believe his presence comforted her somewhat. Of course, we all came to admire him far more as a result of his later deeds.”

“Stephen! Yes, that was the name I was trying to remember that night. So, he, too, was abducted into Faerie. That explains the fact that I saw him at Lost-hope, then. Poor fellow. So, you and the others did not live at Lost-hope.”

“Oh, no, not nearly all of us. To be sure, the Gentlemen had many relatives, sisters, cousins, and so on, who lived with him there. His abducted Christians, such as your wife, also dwelt there. Except Lady Pole, that is; she was acquired under some sort of sharing arrangement and lived in England. The same was true for Stephen. The rest of us all have our own homes, but we were compelled to come every night to Lost-hope for the dreary revels that you witnessed there. I can assure you, our own dances and other celebrations which we are now at liberty to hold are much more cheerful.”

Just then the servants delivered the second course. The one waiting on Strange deposited a plate in front of him. He glanced down at it and then recoiled. “What in the world is that?” he asked shakily.

The servant, who had turned away, came back to stand beside him and said, “Cauliflower a la Flamond, sir. Done from a genuine English receipt, I assure you.”

Strange leaned backward, away from the table. “The cauliflower I will grant you, and that … hmm … that I take it is cheese.”

“Genuine parmasan, sir. Imported.”

“But that … that … what is it?”

“A salamander, sir.”

“But surely that is not an ingredient in cauliflower a la Flamond!”

“Oh, yes. The cook said he was happy to see such a familiar ingredient called for in amongst those exotic ones which required such a deal of trouble to obtain. That was what induced him to choose that particular dish for your second course.”

Strange looked at the Lady, who was staring at him in mild concern. “Do you not care for salamander, Jonathan?” 

Strange noted that her plate was graced by a particularly large salamander, minus the cauliflower and parmasan. He gulped. All the other guests now had plates sitting in front of them, each containing one of the ghastly little beasts. 

“But we English do not eat salamanders at all! I cannot believe that this was concocted from an English receipt.”

Lady Turn-of-Tide looked at the servant severely. “I ordered that nothing but English receipts be followed for Mr Strange’s meal.”

“But I assure you, my Lady … wait a moment, please. I shall fetch it from the kitchen.”

There was a short wait, during which Strange assured the other diners that it would be acceptable to him if they started their second courses without delay. Strange had difficulty finding somewhere he could safely rest his eyes. The Fairies were all devouring their salamanders with evident pleasure, accompanied by what the lady sitting to his right identified for him as pomegranate relish. She added, “If you really do not want yours, my dear sir, I would be happy to take it. I adore salamander, and these are roasted to perfection!”

“With the greatest pleasure, madame,” Strange replied, and hastily held out his plate so that she could transfer the disgusting creature to hers. Not having its reproachful eyes staring up at him was a great relief.

Just then the waiter returned carrying a book with several markers in it. He handed it to Strange, who noted that it was indeed a fairly recent receipts book published, ironically enough, by John Murray. 

“Well, this certainly is an English book,” he admitted reluctantly, opening to the marker indicated by the servant. “Ah, yes, ‘cauliflower a la Flamond.’ Let’s see, ‘Boil the cauliflower: when done take it up and lay it on the back of a sieve to drain all the water from it, then put it into a stew-pan with a little beshemell; when quite hot, dish it up, put parmasan cheese, then brown it with a … a salamander.’” He looked around, struck dumb with puzzlement. He flipped through the book, glancing at a few other receipts, but none called for any such bizarre ingredients.

“Well, I find this very odd. No English man would eat a salamander. I could almost think that Mr Murray’s editorial staff was uncharacteristically lax and let through a grotesque typographical error. ‘Salmon,’ perhaps? That would undoubtedly make a fine combination with cauliflower.” He addressed Lady Turn-of-Tide. “I am sorry to have made such a commotion, my Lady, but really, I am baffled. If I may, I shall borrow this book and look through it later this evening, perhaps taking the liberty to mark items that would be more to my liking.”

“Of course, Jonathan. I want you to be happy and comfortable here,” she replied, looking quite relieved. “Just return it in the morning so that the cook may have time to acquire the ingredients.” The Lady looked up at the waiter, who was hovering. “Take the book and place it on the small table next to the door in the ballroom. Mr Strange will retrieve it after the dancing.”

The servant, also looking relieved, left on his errand, and she turned her attention back to Strange. “Is the dish otherwise to your liking?”

Strange tried not to think of the salamander juices mingling with the melted cheese and replied heartily, “Yes! Cauliflower with cheese. One of my favourites.”

It was not in fact a vegetable that he particularly liked, though he was of the opinion that toasted cheese could improve any dish … except salamander.

He began to eat the cauliflower, carefully avoiding the side where it might have touched the salamander. He was relieved to find that it tasted quite normal. Indeed, he would later conclude that it was undoubtedly the culinary high point of his meal.

“What were we discussing, my Lady? Oh, you said you were compelled to visit Lost-hope. You did not want to be there, then?”

“Not at all! The political maneuvering and spells that led to the Gentleman’s gaining far more power than the rest of us had—and far more than he should have had—go back centuries and are too complicated to go into. And too dreary. I do not like to talk of those days. To give you just a small taste of his ruthlessness, he killed his own brothers in a struggle for power, and he gained their kingdoms. That is why he has only sisters.

“You may think of us as having been his guests. Ha! He called us his ‘vassals,’ the wretched man, and ordered us about in ways that were most galling. Forcing us to celebrate his minor victories in times so long ago that several of us had not even been born. Victories that were invariably accompanied by the most vicious behaviour.”

“You must have been delighted, then, when John Uskglass killed him. You were presumably freed from your obligation.”

“Not immediately, no. But you again speak of the Raven King as if you knew his actions and intentions. You do not. He did not kill the Gentleman. The Christian you knew as Stephen did.”

Strange sat staring at her, stunned. Her words contradicted so many assumptions that he and Norrell had made and lived under ever since the night of the Disenchantment. 

“Stephen killed him? But if he was under an enchantment and therefore in the Gentleman’s power, how could he possibly do that?”

The Lady replied with an amused look, “You would know that better than I, my dearest Jonathan. You and the Other Magician cast the spell. You know the prophecy. ‘The nameless slave shall be a king in a strange country.’”

“But … but our spell was simply cast to make Nature bow down to John Uskglass, so that we might beg for his help in lifting the two ladies’ enchantment.” He stopped suddenly and thought for a moment about precision in spell-casting and about a glowing blue dot in Norrell’s basin. One that he had assumed was Uskglass but Gilbert had insisted was someone else. 

“Stephen! Was he also a ‘nameless slave’? Does that mean … that he killed the Gentleman and is now king of Lost-hope?”

“You clever dear!” she replied rather condescendingly. “Yes, though he has changed its name to Wrongs-set-right. He also changed his name to King Nyeusi. As I understand it, he simply translated his second name, Black, into its equivalent in one of the languages of his ancestral continent. It was he who finally freed the other enchanted guests, including me, from our obligation to attend the nightly revels there. Although I am no longer forced to visit there, I do so from time to time, as do many of the others, for he has much improved the place. It is quite a pleasure to see the changes, and he is a most cordial host.”

Strange was astounded. So Stephen, not the Raven King, was the one who had defeated the Gentleman! He hoped that he would soon be able to tell Gilbert what had really happened as a result of their spell.

The Lady chatted on, paying no attention to his abstraction. “Yes, the new King is most diligent and far better organized than most Fairies would be. It must be his experience as a butler. Is that a high post in the government? Did he formerly help to run England’s affairs of state, as I believe they are called?”

Strange pulled himself together. “Um, no, but butlers do have their own small domains, to be sure, and good ones run them well and are much respected for it.”

“Well, I am glad to hear it. It has not gone unremarked-upon that Stephen, like John Uskglass himself, was a Christian who became king of a Fairy realm. To return to the main point, though. It was shortly after I saw you at Lost-hope that one of the other guests told me that you were a Christian. I believe he must have learned that from Stephen—whom I have danced with quite frequently, by the way. As I told you when I came to bring you here, I was impressed by your obvious talent for magic. The fact that you were one of the magicians mentioned in the famous prophecy gave you a considerable fascination as well. I must admit, I had occasionally toyed with the idea of having a Christian man for a companion. Most male Fairies are far too conceited and dominating. But a Christian would have to obey ME.”

At that moment servants came to serve the sweets course. The servant removed the dish with the remains of the cauliflower and cheese in it and replaced it with a smaller plate. It seemed to contain a pile of sugar. Strange looked at it in some relief. If his fellow guests had been English men and women, he would have wittily remarked, “At least it has no eyes!” As it was, he glanced uncertainly at the Lady.

She in turn looked up at the servant. “And what is Mr Strange having for his sweets course?”

“Cake, my Lady, or something quite close to it. The cook was not able to obtain quite all the ingredients, but he came very close, I’m sure.” Seeing her uncomprehending look, he went on, “Cake is a sweet sort of bread with an even sweeter topping.”

Poking at the little heap, Strange discovered that beneath it lay what appeared to be a slice of bread. “Aha!” he said noncommittally.

“Not ordinary bread, sir,” the fellow assured him. “Made with genuine imported sugar. And topped with it as well,” he added, quite unnecessarily.

Strange sighed. At least this was not some exotic dish of Faerie. It would not be pleasant, but it would at least help fill his belly without making him sick. He hoped. There was quite a lot of sugar there. He resumed his fixed, polite smile and nodded at the servant, who retired looking as though he felt Strange’s meal had, on the whole, turned out reasonably well.

Strange looked at the dishes in front of the other guests. They resembled meringues stuffed with preserves of various sorts, but the garish colours made Strange decide that he was probably better off with his “cake.” Strange took a spoonful of sugar and reverted to the previous topic of conversation.

“I am rather surprised to hear that you conceived an ambition to, um, obtain a Christian man. The one woman with whom I danced when at Lost-hope was quite scornful toward me. She told me that my name was ‘Arrogance’ and said that Mr Nor—that I was doomed to fail in my profession of magic. Even when I asked her to dance she did not smile or thank me.”

“Oh, yes, HER. Well, I am not at all surprised. You must not think that all Fairies are alike! I, for example, am quite cheerful and much welcomed and admired at such social occasions, while she is one of the Gentleman’s cousins, quite a sour creature. No wonder, spending thousands of years dependent on that terrible man for her food and lodging and to all intents and purposes locked up in Lost-hope. Besides, you may have noticed that she was the only lady present who had no partner. She often is, since who would wish to dance with such a dull thing? Except her cousin, of course, who did so occasionally to keep her from complaining too loudly—and afterwards he would complain of her for hours.”

“Yes, I can’t say it was a particularly pleasant experience. But I beg your pardon. I should not have drawn any conclusions about your behaviour by means of comparison with hers, for you are, as you say, quite the opposite of her.”

“Oh, I pardon you gladly. You still know very little about Fairies and knew even less at the time. So, as I said, I conceived this goal, and after that evening I sought to learn everything about you that I could. I looked at you from afar now and then.”

Strange started and looked at her in some distress. He hoped she had not seen Gilbert and him in some of their more intimate moments. Given how often those moments happened, it seemed unlikely that she could have entirely missed witnessing at least part of one of them.

Seeing his expression, she smirked. “Oh, not in the privacy of your bedroom or bathroom or some such place. I was primarily interested in what sorts of activities filled your days, what sort of man you were. I looked mainly at a large room, the beauty of which was obscured by a great many books.”

This did not entirely comfort Strange, since outbursts of passion between the two magicians were nearly as likely to arise in the library as in the bedroom. He sat absently crunching his sugar-bread cake and pondering this news. He could only hope that the Lady had entirely missed such interactions. She had not made any of her rude remarks about Gilbert, which was a good sign.

The Lady went on, “Of course, that is not the best way to do these things, since the images are lamentably small and often distorted. Still, I could see that you well enough to know that you were even more handsome than you had been that night at Lost-hope, and you seemed a cheerful sort of man, often smiling or laughing. And studious, which apparently is considered a desirable trait in a Christian. Reading so very many books and taking notes and so on. I can’t imagine having such patience.

“I knew that you were under a curse, of course, trapped, alone in the Dark Tower apart from a terribly inadequate staff of servants and the company of that dull, ugly, completely uninteresting little man.” 

Strange thought of Norrell during some of their more ardent moments and thought, “Completely uninteresting?” He stifled a chuckle. At least her remark gave him hope that she had never seen Gilbert and him engaged in such activities. Surely she would comment in a derogatory fashion—most unjustly—on Gilbert’s inadequacies in that regard if she had.

The Lady went on, “I had no doubt that you would be delighted to be rescued from such captivity, just as I was overjoyed to be freed from my enchantment at Lost-hope. Now I have liberated you from the Darkness and from the Other Magician’s tedious company at last. Well, you seem to have finished your cake.”

Strange nodded, feeling a trifle queasy. He felt lucky to have had the savoury cheese dish in between the two overly sweet ones.

“Then I think it is time to begin the dancing.”

She stood up, as did the others, and the group began moving into the ballroom, which was directly next to the dining room. Both had broad double doors, now standing completely open, which faced out onto the courtyard and its pond. The courtyard was lit with small, moving, mysteriously glowing animals or insects—he could not tell which from that distance. 

As the Lady and Strange walked, she ran her fingers along his jaw affectionately. Like her kiss, they caused a cold, tingling sensation. It was all he could do not to shy away from her.

As Lady Turn-of-Tide led Strange out to begin the first dance, she said, “I shall be your partner for the entire evening, my darling Jonathan. Only for this one night, to allow you to become familiar with our customs and so that I might teach you the very latest dances. Tomorrow evening I shall allow my lady friends to partner with you as much as they like.”

Strange nodded with his invariable little smile. “Thank you! Any instruction you care to give me would be most welcome. Tomorrow evening I shall do my best to make the dances enjoyable for your friends.”

“Oh, yes, do so! do so! I hope by the end of the evening they will all be seething with jealousy over my having such a charming and handsome Christian for a companion. I wonder if it will start a fashion and all the unmarried ones will obtain one for themselves.” She smiled provocatively at him. “They certainly will be jealous when I hint to them how wonderful and considerate you are in bed.”

Strange lowered his head with an embarrassed look. “Oh! I hope you will delay your expectations of me in that regard. I must admit, when you kissed me earlier today, it seemed quite shockingly intimate. I realize, of course, that such a thing does not reflect upon your character and that your actions were guided by Fairy customs. We Christians, however, are not so bold. At least, not so early in our romantic acquaintances. We observe a period of courtship before any such exchanges.”

The Lady looked intrigued, fortunately in a pleasant way. “Really, a little kiss on the cheek is so shocking?” She laughed. “I’m sorry if I offended your sensibilities. How would a Christian courtship proceed?”

“Well, it would begin with a period … quite a long period, you understand, of the couple doing things together that would allow them to talk, to become better acquainted with each other, to describe their interests and so on. Rather as you wished to do when you watched me from afar.”

The Lady frowned thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose that makes some sense … for Christians, at any rate. What sorts of things would a Christian couple do together to promote such acquaintance?”

Strange thought back to his own courtship. “Well, they might take walks out in nature—in woods and pretty fields and especially gardens when the flowers are in bloom. Such things usually provide subjects for agreeable conversation.”

“Excellent! This castle is surrounded on three sides by lovely woods. We might walk for hours there. I often do so alone, but having you along with me would enhance the pleasure greatly.”

“Ah, fine. Another activity that takes one out in to nature is boating on lakes or occasionally perhaps gentle rivers.”

“Oh, better and better! Of course, you have noticed that water plays a large part in my life. I adore it. There is a large lake just down the hill on the unwooded side. The views from it are quite awe-inspiring.” Her smile faded somewhat, and she went on, “They are mostly illusions, I must admit. The actual scenery in my estate is quite dull, apart from the woods. I traveled the world to find the most spectacular landscapes and have arranged a striking combination of the Swiss mountains in the distance and nearer the shore a great sea of sand dunes from the Sahara. They are quite realistic. They even reflect in the surface of the lake! I assure you, you will not be able to distinguish them from the real places. So much sky and stone and sand enhance the ceaseless motion of the water and its shifts in colour. We shall go for a long ride the day after tomorrow. We can take a meal on the boat or the shore. I shall let you decide. I could bring the musicians. Oh, it will be quite grand!”

“That sounds delightful, my Lady. Apart from that, let me see, um, courting couples also often play games, both lawn games and indoor ones.”

The Lady looked thoughtful. “Games, yes. Fairies have many games, of course, but I am not sure that you would enjoy them. In fact, I am not sure you would even be capable of participating in them. The outdoor ones involve searching and chasing and hiding, with sudden appearances and disappearances and even travel to far-flung areas of Faerie and other worlds. Indoors we mostly play riddling and guessing games, and you do not yet have enough knowledge of Faerie to know the answers—especially since they often involve plays on words or names of places and people. My experience is that Christians cannot understand or even pronounce such words. I have no objection, however, to learning some Christian games. What sorts do they play?”

“As to lawn games, I quite enjoy Nine Pins, and my wife-to-be was passionately fond of Shuttlecock, probably because she was so very good at it. Blind Man’s Buff—oh, but that requires a group, which is hardly conducive to conversation between a couple. The others can easily be played by two, though they would require some simple equipment you may not have here in Faerie.”

“I’m sure if you describe what we would need, I could arrange to acquire it or have it made.”

“Those games seem feasible, then. Indoors we play card games. I was devoted to cribbage during my college days. That necessitates our having a deck of cards and a rather elaborate board and set of pins. Still, perhaps you might be able to obtain those as well.”

“I’m sure I can. Oh, Jonathan, this is such a delightful prospect! Let the courtship begin! I do look forward to our walk tomorrow.”

Strange smiled and nodded, but his anticipation was not so much for the company of the Lady as for the prospect of possibly getting some ideas for methods of escape once they were outside the castle.

++++++++++++++++++++++

At last the dancing ended, and the guests departed to their own homes. The Lady seemed to have no relatives living with her. As they walked toward the castle’s entrance to see the guests off, Strange mentioned this. She gave a delicate sniff. “No, and I am glad of it. Oh, I enjoy my brothers and my sister, but they have their own homes—and children! I personally have no patience with children. I don’t mind short visits with them, but to have them here all the time!” she shook her head in horror. The result was that her hair billowed about her head in a most unnatural and distracting fashion.

Strange stood beside the Lady and said good-bye to the guests. When they had gone, Strange cleared his throat as if somewhat nervous.

“May I … may I escort you to your room?”

He held up his bent arm for her to take.

She looked at it and said with mock incredulity, “Oh, do your Christian customs allow us to touch in such a fashion?”

“Oh, yes. The assumption is that the lady might slip or lose her balance, and the gentleman is there to steady and protect her. It is therefore not considered an intimate gesture, though the courting couple might take some mild pleasure in it. Dancing is somewhat similar—an occasion for the couple to hold each other without there being a carnal implication to it.”

The Lady shook her head again, gaily this time. “It all seems rather silly, and yet quite charming. Like a game, I suppose, played by its own rules. How do I …?” She held up her hand to grasp his arm.

“You may either simply place your hand gently atop my lower arm or slip it up through the crook in the elbow and curl it up over the arm from the inside.”

The Lady chose the latter method, and they proceeded in a formal fashion to her bedroom door.

She turned to look at him. “Well, I suppose that our formal courtship really has now begun. So far it seems most entertaining. Oh, I probably am expected to thank you, since you have protected me in my highly dangerous journey up to my room.” She laughed. Her tendency to laugh so often was already beginning to grate on him, but he tried to ignore it.

Strange chuckled diplomatically. “Yes, that would be appropriate.”

“Well, then, thank you, kind sir. I shall see you in the morning for our lovely and informative walk, during which we shall become better acquainted with each other.” She was beginning to close her door but paused and moved a step out again. Her expression had become distinctly more serious. “By the way, how long might we be expected to carry on these walks and boat-rides and games and dancing and so on before we move on to kissing and other signs of growing intimacy?”

Strange quickly pondered how long he could avoid joining the Lady in bed without her becoming impatient and even annoyed enough to force him in some magical fashion. At least Fairies had a different sense of time from Christians, he reflected, and what seemed long to him might not seem so to her.

“Oh, in a week or so I might venture to kiss your hand, I suppose. A few weeks later, a peck on the lips, and so on.”

The Lady nodded, not showing any sign of surprise or annoyance. “I see. Not a particularly long time. Well, you Christians must be very modest people, but I shall allow you to proceed at your own pace. I assure you, though, I anticipate the end of the courtship keenly. Good night!” she concluded, with a flirtatious smile and little wave.

“Sleep well, my Lady,” he replied, bowing as gallantly as he could manage.

As soon as her door was closed, Strange hurried to his own room. Once inside he relaxed his tense, wary body and leaned against the bed, surveying the room. “At least,” he thought, “you are not in that bedroom with her, expected to satisfy her desires when you have none yourself. And at least she seems amused enough by this courtship nonsense that she might allow me to carry it through for some time.”

Strange took off the drab green suit and hung it up in the large, crowded armoire. He washed himself, and although the Lady’s touch left no visible trace on his skin, he felt a certain relief once he was finished. Clad in only his small-clothes he got into bed and lay staring upward. Perhaps he could continue to court the Lady by inches for weeks on end, but if Gilbert had not rescued him by then, surely he would have to assume that the other magician was unable to find a way to do so, or even too terrified to try. By then Strange knew that he himself would be in utter despair, too hopeless to resist providing whatever the Lady demanded of him. 

What was Gilbert doing, at this very moment? He realized that even if his lover could summon the courage to attempt a rescue, he would need to think of the spells he could use, probably depending on much research, and then write them out very carefully to suit this particular situation. He and Gilbert had been able to conceive and improvise magic quickly on the night of the Disenchantment, but they had been working together then. Of course, the magic they had done then had come out differently than they had expected—very differently, given the astonishing news about Stephen. Moreover, working alone, Gilbert was usually successful only when he proceeded slowly and methodically.

Could Gilbert summon the necessary courage? Even if he did, would his spells work in such a challenging situation? Strange realized he should be trying on his own to find a way to escape, though so far no possibilities had presented themselves. He thought again of the outing planned for the next day and the possibility that it might provide some inspiration. 

Too tense to sleep, he took up the receipt book, flipping through and, having no markers, he turned down the corners of appealing-sounding dishes—vowing never to mention to Gilbert that he had treated a book in such a horrible fashion. If he ever saw Gilbert again. He forced the thought from his mind and concentrated on the more savoury dishes listed in the book. Sweets could be eliminated from his diet, as far as he was concerned. The task was soothing enough that he eventually fell asleep, though he dreamt of struggling helplessly in deep, dark water.

 

NOTE: The receipt for Cauliflower a la Flamond which Strange reads is an authentic English one published in 1816, though probably not by John Murray. (A salamander as referenced in the receipt is a particularly hot grill, used for purposes such as quickly browning dishes topped with cheese.)

Roasted salamander with pomegranate relish is one of the elegant dishes recorded as having been offered to Stephen Black by the gentleman with the thistle-down hair in Chapter 42 of Miss Clarke’s history of Norrell’s and Strange’s careers before the sensational disappearance of Hurtfew Abbey from Yorkshire in 1817.


	3. Mr Norrell enters Faerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terrified though Mr Norrell is, he absolutely has to go into Faerie to rescue Mr Strange, kidnapped by a lady Fairy. Mr Strange continues to pretend that he is courting the lady.

Norrell woke up abruptly the next morning. If only it had all been a terrible nightmare and he could turn over and find Jonathan there beside him. It was all too real, however, and he did not even bother to look before getting out of bed. He let Lucas walk him through the processes of bathing and having breakfast, feeling almost dazed by grief and fear, but he did not consider giving up his plans for a rescue.

Back in the library, he carefully read over everything that he had written the day before. Most of it was useful, to be sure, but he noticed all sorts of uncertainties, ambiguities and gaps—as well as a few unsound ideas that needed to be removed. There was so much still to be done. He almost started sobbing. Time was relentlessly passing while he crept through his work. Who knows what might be happening to Jonathan? What if the Fairy woman had some unknown love spell? Not a spell to create genuine love, for such a thing was impossible. But she could ensnare Jonathan in a deep infatuation that could pass for love. Lust, in short. Norrell clenched his teeth. After all, she probably didn’t want a great deal more than that. 

Whatever was happening at the Fairy’s castle, however, he could but carry on, avoiding hast and proceeding cautiously and carefully. He doggedly continued to read, take notes, draft, revise and revise again, all day and once more late into the night. Lucas nearly had to carry him to his bedroom.

“Are you succeeding in devising perfect plans that you think will work, sir?” he asked as he buttoned Norrell into his nightclothes. 

Norrell almost managed a wan smile. “Oh, I have made considerable progress. I have not, however, achieved perfection. Perhaps tomorrow I shall finish.”

The next morning Norrell took a lamp and went out to the river. “Running water,” he muttered. He went to a bend where the flow of the river was particularly fast against the near bank and reached down, feeling the bed until he found a smooth stone that was the size to fit comfortably in his hand. He pulled it up until it was barely submerged and held it in the stream for a while, hoping that it would not only emerge clean but also retain the power of the moving water. He eventually pulled it out and examined it. Over the decades of his career, he had done many feats of magic involving stones. The spell cast on the sculptures of the York Minster was undoubtedly the greatest of them. It was a substance he felt he understood in general fairly well. 

Norrell’s task was not finished, however. He knelt and felt about in the river, pulling up more small stones and examining them. It took twenty stones or more, but at last he found one that suited his purpose. He held it up and looked at a small hole that the river’s flow had eroded all the way through a thin portion of it. He smiled and carried both stones back to the house.

Norrell continued to read and write and revise all morning. Fortified by a modest meal at midday, he commenced copying out the final draft. Once he completed it, he wrote down the contract that he hoped to force the lady to sign. He read that over several times, seeking even the tiniest gap that a Fairy might seize upon to consider the entire thing void. By mid-afternoon he was ready. He put the first stone onto the central table, placed his hand on it and carefully read out the spell. He ended by specifying exactly when the spell should go into effect. The little stone was crucial to that. If he was successful, water, air, plants, water and stone should bow down to him—and obey him. That, at least, was the theory. Whether it would work was another question. The second stone did not require a spell. If he needed it, the magic of Faerie would make it work for him.

He placed the stones, the contract and some other items in a small bag. He was now completely ready to set out, having worked long at his basin to narrow down the exact location of the lady Fairy’s castle. In all his preparations he had never found any information on how to move a large building into Faerie. Finally he had decided to use the same one they had employed all along in traveling around Europe in Hurtfew. He could only hope that it would work as well for destinations within Faerie. He cast the spell, placing the house at a spot which should be a short walk away from the castle.

Rather than starting toward the door, however, he sat down, not moving except for his slow, deep breaths, for nearly twenty minutes. Finally he picked up the bag, rang for Lucas and walking out into the large entry hallway.

Lucas arrived, noticing the bag. He looked anxiously at Norrell. “Are you leaving us now, sir? Is the spell perfect?” he said, with an attempt at a smile.

“Yes, as far as I can tell, Lucas. I am setting out. The Darkness is now, as far as I know, in Faerie. I can only be sure, of course, once I pass through the archway. I assume that as usual, neither you nor the others noticed the change.”

“No, sir.”

"Please tell the others not to leave the Darkness on any account until my return.”

Lucas looked very worried. “Yes, sir. May I ask, are you going to confront the Fairy directly?”

“Yes, I see no other way. I shall try to enter her castle.”

Lucas tried to sound confident. “Splendid, sir! All best wishes for your success! Have you any idea how long it will take?”

“Not very long, I think. A few hours, perhaps. Hurtfew should now be close to the castle. My success or failure should be determined relatively quickly.”

“And if you fail, sir?”

“In that case, I might well not be coming back.”

Lucas blanched. “But … that leaves us trapped in Faerie, sir! Mr Strange assured me that we could never be put in danger—that it would be he and you who might be in danger, but never us.”

“Yes, we always rather assumed that we would go out into the world and possibly encounter danger there. But invading Hurtfew ... Fairy abduction … I never dreamed … Well, at any rate, I have written out the spell for returning Hurtfew to its previous location in Kassel. It is on the big table, beside my basin. It is quite a simple spell, really, since you are going back to the original spot. I think you should be able to cast it. Once in Kassel, all of you could then leave the Darkness and return to your homes if you wished. You know where I keep the money for current expenses. The Brothers Grimm, whom you know fairly well, would no doubt help you.” He breathed heavily for a moment, thinking hard. “They would also presumably help to deal with the library. Perhaps merging it with their own or—”

“But sir, if, God forbid, you and Mr Strange are killed, would the Darkness not vanish? If that happens, I should imagine that Hurtfew would be stranded within Faerie, out in the open along with all of us! It would no longer be possible to move it.”

Norrell looked at him hopelessly. “I just don’t know, Lucas. You may well be right. Still, people enter Faerie voluntarily. Those who are not enchanted sometimes return to Christian lands. Mr Strange went onto the Faerie roads and returned to England … as did Mr Childermass briefly, on our final journey to Hurtfew. I shall have to trust you to find a way. If all else fails, try the mirrors, try the Roads. As to the library, well …” He trailed off, tears in his eyes. “I cannot put that responsibility on you. Just leave it behind.” This thought gave him pause, and he wondered if he really loved Jonathan more than he did his precious library, which he had assembled over such a long time, at such a cost of money and effort. He could give up now and return to Kassel and keep himself and it safe. He could not bear the thought, however. He could not abandon Jonathan to whatever he might be suffering. Yes, he loved the younger magician that much. He wiped the tears from his eyes and hoisted the bag over his shoulder.

“Well, sir, I shall try to be optimistic and expect your return. The other know that a Fairy has stolen Mr Strange, but I shall not tell them what you have just revealed to me about the danger to us. It would only worry them, unnecessarily I hope and trust. Time enough later if some disaster strikes.” He held out his hand.

Norrell nodded and shook Lucas’ hand. He took a deep breath, reaching out to open the door.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On his first morning in Lady Turn-of-Tide’s castle Strange was served breakfast in his room and told by the servant who delivered it that the Lady was expecting him to meet her by the pond in an hour, ready to walk out with her.

The meal was somewhat more successful than dinner had been. He found the tea rather startling, a clear, pale green rather than the dark stuff he was used to. The servant, who had stayed to pour for him, assured him that it came from a Christian land called China and was perfectly safe for him to drink. Strange wasn’t sure whether it was the sort of thing one should add milk to, given that it was clearly not very strong to begin with. There was no milk on offer anyway. The toast was not dissimilar to what he was used to, though the preserves which appeared to be made of strawberries, turned out to be a savoury sort from a plant that he did not recognize. It was rather sharp in taste for a component in a breakfast, but he ate it and found it not completely disagreeable. Two sausages turned out, to his relief, to be actual, English-style sausages.

After breakfast, Strange shaved and washed and then chose one of the less dressy suits from the many in the armoire, as well as a sturdy pair of boots. Having no clock, he went down to the pond to wait for the Lady. The otter came over to him, took one look, and swam away. Its antics, however, entertained him until the Lady’s arrival. She greeted him cheerfully.

Strange had arrived via magic, so he had no sense of where the entrance to the castle was. He carefully noted the route as the pair walked along a hallway and arrived at the front door. 

“I should remove the labyrinth, don’t you think?” the Lady asked. Without waiting for a reply, she made a gesture, presumably to remove it, and opened the door. “Really, it might be amusing for you to walk through it, but it is rather lengthy, and we want to get on with our walk.”

Strange suspected that she in fact wanted to prevent him from learning the secrets of the labyrinth, so that he could not navigate it in an attempt to escape. He wondered whether he would, if necessary, be able to make his way through it successfully, as he had with Norrell’s on the night of the Disenchantment.

Once outside, they walked straight forward along a path that soon reached a gate. There were two vacant-looking guards standing by the small towers at each end of it. One turned and draw out a key to let them out, and the two saluted as the pair walked by and then returned to their posts. The couple crossed a drawbridge. Strange looked around and saw on all sides a large forest of tall, slightly grotesque trees. The canopy above was thick, dimming the sunlight that filtered through, but it was easy enough to see. A broad path led straight away from the door, and they proceeded along it. He noted that the Lady made no effort to grasp his hand, presumably in respect for his delicate Christian sensibilities in that regard.

As they walked, they came to forks in the path, and the Lady knew which way she wished to go without pausing to consider, apparently having a specific route in mind. Along the way she pointed out various plants. Animals were eating or hunting in the underbrush, and she identified them for him, trying to find English terms for their Fairy names. One was a hare far larger than any he had ever seen, another a small creature that hopped on its hind legs. None of them seemed afraid of the pair.

Apart from the fact that large drops of water fell fairly frequently from the foliage far above, the forest had a rather pleasant melancholy about it. If he had not been trying to memorize the layout of the paths and watching for a brightening in the distance that might indicate an edge of the forest, he might have actually enjoyed the walk.

Soon the Lady interrupted his thoughts. “Well, Jonathan, we are supposed to be getting better acquainted with each other. Tell me something of your life before you were cursed by the Gentleman.”

Lady Turn-of-Tide was a good listener, he had to grant her that. He told her of his unhappy childhood, his dissolute school years and his courtship of Arabella. He dwelt on the latter. Arabella’s resistance to him had drawn out that courtship so long that he hardly had to exaggerate that aspect of it to make it conform to what he had told the Lady.

She interrupted with many questions, so that Strange had not quite reached his momentous encounter with Vinculus when she pointed out that they had reached a convenient spot for lunch. The forest had thinned out slightly and opened into a pleasant clearing that allowed some welcome sunshine in. There was a little lawn and even a small shelter with chairs and a table. 

“Is this always here, or have you arranged it especially for me?” Strange asked,

“Oh, it has been here for a very long time. I enjoy coming out occasionally to have lunch or just sit and talk with the animals and trees. Indeed, I have a very special friend that I am sure you will wish to meet, if she is agreeable.”

Strange looked around, but there was no sign of even the smallest dwelling among the trees. But this was Faerie, and who knows what sort of friend she meant?

Over lunch Strange told her of Vinculus and the prophecy, which fascinated her very much. 

“The moment when you became the man you are now,” she said flirtatiously.

Strange smiled and shrugged modestly. He went on to describe his early study of magic, thwarted at every turn by Mr Norrell. 

The Lady commented, “Really I do not understand your passion for books! But if you wanted them, it was very unkind for the Other Magician to keep them from you. It just confirms my opinion of him and makes me very happy that I have rescued you from him.”

Strange realized that it was pointless, but he made one attempt at defending Gilbert. “Oh, but later on, when we met, he proved most agreeable and even took me as his pupil, sharing many of his books with me.”

“He probably simply wanted to seduce you, the lecherous old fellow. As he eventually did, of course.”

Strange did not point out that that was the same thing that the Lady was trying to do. It was clear that nothing he said in defense of Gilbert would sway her opinion, so he skipped over his student days, apart from sketching out his and Arabella’s acceptance into the social life of London. 

“Ah, so you Christians have revels as well.”

“Yes, of a sort. Not every day at the same place, and we are not compelled to attend the banquets and balls.”

“Well, neither are my friends.”

“Except me,” Strange thought sourly. 

At this moment the lady turned her attention from Strange to a spot across the pond. Strange followed her gaze and gasped. A unicorn was standing looking across the water at them.

“Is that your friend?” he breathed.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Of course, she is very shy, especially around men. I am not sure she will come over to us.”

She called out what was presumably a greeting and invitation, speaking in the language of Faerie. The exquisite beast hesitated but then stepped delicately around the pond and came over to them. The Lady spoke to her again, apparently explaining who Strange was. The unicorn stared at Strange with its large, dark, liquid eyes, and he felt an odd urge to cry and a fluttering in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with what he had eaten. 

He had always wondered how unicorns laid their heads in the laps of ladies. What did they do with their horns? He found out when the unicorn approached, knelt and set her chin upon the Lady’s knee. The Lady stroked her mane softly, and time seemed to stop. Strange thought of nothing but how beautiful it was and how lucky he was to see this magical beast … and how very much he wished to rush home and tell Gilbert about it.

At last the enchanted little interlude ended. The Lady said her farewells, and the unicorn departed as it had come, around the pond and into the woods.

“Thank you for sharing her with me,” he said. “I never dreamt that I would possibly enjoy such a privilege.”

“Of course! We shall other such encounters during our life together, though she is without doubt the most entrancing of the creatures living in my domain.”

“I don’t doubt it.” 

They walked on, and Strange went on with his life’s story, prudently skipping over his years as a student with Norrell and going straight to his wartime service. To his surprise, the Lady was quite fascinated, asking even more questions, to the point where his account lasted for the rest of the afternoon, though he paused often to look at an animal or plant that the Lady pointed out. In fact, he was rather startled to look up and discover that they had arrived back at the castle.

“Well, I’m sorry that I have dwelt upon the war for such a long time, my Lady.”

“Not at all. It was fascinating! I shall tell you tomorrow why I, living in such isolated circumstances, would be interested in such a topic. But now let us go in and dress for dinner and the dancing.”

As far as Strange’s food was concerned, the dinner was a slight but distinct improvement over the previous one, with all of the dishes prepared for him being free of small, revolting amphibians. One was even moderately pleasant. He credited his work the night before with the receipts book. With some practice, he reflected, the cook might become reasonably proficient in producing English-style meals. Immediately he inwardly berated himself for such a thought. He would not be there, he hoped, long enough to find out. 

After dinner the Lady partnered Strange in the first dance, but thereafter she encouraged him to chuze others from among the Ladies present. They were all strikingly beautiful, but he decided tthat his main criterion for picking out those he wished to dance with was whether their clothing and hair were free of live creatures. 

The Lady’s goal was evidently achieved. Some of Strange’s partners showed signs of being fascinated by him. Later, as Strange again formally escorted the Lady to her room, she triumphantly told him that she had overheard some of the women gossiping about how attractive and captivating he was.

“I am delighted to have achieved what you requested, my Lady. Thank you for a most enjoyable day.” 

The Lady nodded graciously, and Strange decided to be daring. He backed away from the door, blowing her a kiss as he did so. She looked puzzled. Apparently this gesture was not something that Fairies did.

“I have just blown a kiss to you, my Lady,” he explained. “It is a custom of courting, at the stage when we are not yet expected to have amorous contact.”

The Lady smiled and nodded, and she blew him a kiss in return, barely managing not to laugh. She continued to look at him coyly as she closed the door.

Back in his own room, Strange muttered, “Damn, why did I do that so soon? Tomorrow she will probably expect me to kiss her hand and then …” He consoled himself that if Gilbert rescued him within the next few days, it would not matter that he was deluding the Lady by offering her a little encouragement. And if he was forced to live here indefinitely, she could magically induce him to bed her whether or not he had offered her any encouragement.

As he undressed, he had to concede that the walk had actually been reasonably pleasant, though he was well aware that that was partly because the Lady had encouraged him to natter on about himself in a way that few others would tolerate. (“Arrogance,” he reminded himself.) Beyond that, he had seen a unicorn! If only Lady Turn-of-Tide had stolen him away just for one such day and then returned him to Gilbert, it would perhaps have been worthwhile. But enduring a lifetime of such activities, without Gilbert and without books, would be beyond bearing.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning Strange and the Lady left the castle as before for their boating trip. Once more she took away the labyrinth, but this time they turned to the right after crossing the drawbridge and being saluted as before by the blank-eyed guards. They walked around the castle, for the lake lay on the opposite side. On the previous day Strange had caught no glimpse of it. It was of moderate size, with the opposite shore clearly visible. Strange estimated that he could probably row across it in twenty or thirty minutes. They were facing the narrow side, however, and to left and right it stretched out much further.

They paused at the edge of the incline that ran down from a short distance behind the castle to the shore. Strange much admired the illusory landscape beyond the far shore, which was as impressive and convincing as the Lady had claimed. Strange had seen the Alps, but only their foothills near Venice and some taller peaks in the very far distance. These were far more impressive and covered with snow. They made an abrupt and startling contrast with the dunes below.

After he had complimented her on the scene, they walked down to the boat. It was perhaps twenty feet long, with a small canopy for protection from the sun and under it two chairs and a small table. The whole was white, though as they reached it Strange noted that it was beginning to need repainting.

Two musicians were seated in the bow, and they began to play as the couple stepped into the boat. Strange realized that there was no one at the rudder and no apparent means of locomotion.

When he remarked on this, the Lady shrugged and said, “It goes wherever I tell it to.”

They set out from the shore, with the Lady pointing out various birds and features of the landscape. The surface of the water was remarkably calm, with breezes stirring only the slightest of waves. With the still mountains and dunes in the distance, the vista might almost be a huge picture.

Once they had admired the view, the Lady said, “You have not yet told me what you did after the war, Jonathan.”

The prospect of telling the Lady about his growing conflict with Norrell was too much to contemplate, given that the Lady would no doubt interrupt frequently with rude remarks about his lover. Instead he spoke of Arabella’s apparent death and his move to Venice. She was particularly fascinated by his vivid descriptions of his efforts to induce madness in himself with the goal of being able to summon a Fairy servant.

“Oh, Jonathan, really, you need not have gone to such heartrending lengths! There are other methods to obtain a Fairy servant.” She seemed about speak further, but she suddenly stopped and simply said, “But do go on, please.”

Strange wondered if she might have been about to tell him of one or another such method, but it occurred to him that by doing so, she could possibly have given him the knowledge to cast such a spell on her and thus gain some power over her. He resumed his story with his visit to Lost-hope and the subsequent period of despair in Venice.

Finally he reached his move to Hurtfew in the Darkness. He gave her a considerably altered version of the night of the Disenchantment. Strange barely mentioned Gilbert, again because he did not want to listen to more of the Lady’s denigration of his lover. His account made it sound as though he himself had thought of and executed the spells. He could not eliminate Gilbert altogether, as the prophecy was for two magicians, but fortunately the Lady was so enthralled in the story that she barely interrupted him.

Strange stopped there, since everything that had happened then involved Gilbert, and he could not imagine being able to make an interesting account of their travels, with or without mentioning the other magician. He realized with a pang that what the Lady had said was true. He and Gilbert had been leading a rather uneventful life since their move to Kassel.

“Your account has been very interesting, Jonathan, but you have left out one important thing. What became of your wife after she escaped from the Gentleman’s enchantment?” He thought he detected a slight coldness in her voice.

He hurried to reassure her. “Well, of course, being trapped in the Darkness, I could not rejoin her, and I could hardly ask her to share such a dismal fate with me. I parted from her, strongly hinting that she should consider herself free to marry again.”

“Ah, that would indeed be best for every one involved,” she said complacently. “And has she remarried?”

“I believe not. We correspond now and again. She has spent considerable time travelling on the Continent—Europe, that is—with Lady Pole. Between such journeys they live together at my childhood home, which now belongs to Arabella. She has not yet remarried, but she has certainly not hinted at any resumption of our marriage.”

The Lady smiled approvingly. “Thank you for telling me all this. And now, it seems a convenient time for lunch. Shall we go back to the shore or eat it here?”

Strange opted for staying on the boat, and the musicians rose to serve the meal. As they ate, the Lady entertained Strange. First she conjured up a small thunderstorm with dramatic lightning and thunder, though she kept it distant from them, over the far end of the lake. Strange smiled, remembering the playful argument he and Gilbert had had over his desire to summon up a thunderstorm to herald the arrival of Hurtfew when they moved it into the centre of Edinburgh. The press had described it as overly dramatic and an unnecessary touch when the Tower of Darkness and its travelling country home were so very impressive. He had never suggested such a thing again. He quite enjoyed the Lady’s thunderstorm, however.

The Lady followed this entertainment with some water spouts, again at a distance, and a school of fish leaping in what looked very much like a dance.

“Most entertaining,” Strange remarked as they finished their meal. “But now it is your turn to tell me something of yourself.”

“Oh, yes, we both must become better acquainted, each with the other. Well, I have not led such a varied and eventful life as you. For many centuries I was trapped in a strangely divided existence. By day, I enjoyed activities such as these while at home, and at night I was compelled to attend the dreary revels at Lost-hope.”

“You promised to explain your interest in my military activities.”

“Certainly. You must understand that there is a kingdom not far from here, Untold-Blessings. It is a vast and beautiful place, with dense forests much larger than my little woods, and real mountains, and it is surrounded by seas which are impossible to navigate. Its one fault is that the king died long ago, and there are many claimants to the throne, constantly at war with each other. One of them is my uncle, who lives in a large domain there. I visited him often in days gone by. I never was near any of the battles, fortunately, but I heard many thrilling and terrifying tales about them. Hence my delight in such tales from the Christian world.”

“That is very interesting indeed. And in what kingdom is your home?”

“To be truthful, this is not a kingdom at all, merely a dukedom, the Dukedom of Pity-Me. It is a small and peaceful country, admittedly not one of great natural beauty—hence the necessity for me to create my illusionary landscape. The King of Lost-hope used occasionally to teaze me quite offensively about living in such a “miserable little place,” as he invariably called it. Still, that makes it less attractive to invaders and hence quite a peaceful country. Our Duke is a quiet, very tedious little man. He was never invited to Lost-hope. Still, now that we, his subjects, are free to hold our own revels, we have agreed each to invite him to attend once a year. We cannot bear more than that, but at least by visiting each of us, he gains some social life. I must say, though, most of us somewhat miss having a large, exciting court full of royalty and nobility who can set the fashions and hold annual celebrations and so forth. All in all, I enjoy my domain, but I grew quite lonely. That was what led me to conceive the idea of acquiring a beautiful Christian man to keep me company. And what better one that the magician whose spell helped to kill the Gentleman and thus free me from his thrall?” 

“Fascinating indeed, my Lady. Thank you for telling me about it.” Strange did consider everything she said to be extraordinarily valuable information about the nature of Faerie. He decided that if … when he returned home he could write up quite an informative article on the subject. 

“My Lady, you must have travelled a great distance to find the views that you used in your illusion,” he said, gesturing to the mountains and dunes. “How did you settle upon this particular combination?”

“It was a difficult decision. I collected many such illusions around the world before returning here and chuzing these. Let me show you some of the others!”

She gestured and the mountains and deserts dissolved into a new view. Most of it was occupied by a broad sea that seemed to join with the lake at its shore and extend it to a distant horizon. Far away, perfectly centred, was a single tall, dark mountain with a great fan of molten rock, ash and smoke bursting forth from its peak. There was no movement, but the sight was highly impressive. The Lady gave him a few minutes to admire and remark upon it before causing the view to change again. Now a flat, bleak landscape of rust-red sand punctuated by dry-looking shrubs and small trees appeared, with an enormous outcropping of stone of the same color, its sides and top curving to create a low, broad, arched profile. It was quite majestic. The presentation reminded Strange of the magic-lantern slide shows that he had seen, but on an incomparably grander scale. Again after a few minutes the Lady changed the view, and she showed him several more awe-inspiring images before returning the mountains and dunes to their place.

Strange sighed and shook his head in amazement. “Simply overwhelming!” was all he could manage. He wondered whether he and Norrell would be able to visit such places. Certainly they could transport Hurtfew anywhere they wished instantly, but trapped in the Darkness as they were, they could not see the landscapes well. Still, he vowed to ask the Lady where these sublime places were.

“I’m glad you enjoyed them. To answer your question, this particular view pleased me because the mountains and dunes make such a striking contrast with each other, and their natural stillness sets off the movements of the clouds and water in the real world around them. Once in a while I change the illusion, but after a little while I always return to this one. Well, it is time for us to start back. Once we are ashore I have a few other things to show you before we must go and change for this evening’s revels.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Norrell cautiously opened the door of Hurtfew. The road and lawn looked as usual, and he walked quickly to the archway. He paused again. Assuming he was in Faerie, he wondered if the Darkness would follow him and alert those within the castle to his presence. There was only one way to find out. Walking through the archway, he found himself surrounded by a wood. It was not raining, but the ground was damp and smelled of moldering leaves, and the trees were dripping. A straight path, thick with wet leaves led directly away from the archway. He could dimly see the gate of a castle in the distance. He suspected that it was outside the Darkness.

Once again he paused, terrified of what might be guarding that gate. He told himself, “Jonathan is probably in the building behind that gate. Suffering or bewitched or … ” he didn’t like to think about any of those possibilities. He said to himself, “You might see Jonathan quite soon if you would only set out!”

After repeating that thought to himself a few times, he gathered his courage and walked along the path. At first nothing happened, and he began to wonder if he might emerge from the Darkness soon. Or perhaps it was night here in Faerie. Did they have the same cycle of night and day as in England? Eventually he had walked far enough that he should have left the Darkness. He looked up, but of course, the strange stars that they saw overhead in the Darkness were the same stars as in Faerie, or so he assumed. He suspected that the Darkness was accompanying him. Surely someone in the castle would have noticed the great black column by now. Why was nothing happening? Was there an ambush ahead?

Norrell soon reached a wall surrounded by a moat, with a drawbridge that led to a large gate flanked by small stone towers. They were carven with large, disquieting figures that looked half human and half something else. He was about to step onto the bridge when two guards emerged out of the shadows below the figures and marched across the bridge in unison, brandishing spears at him. He stopped. They did not speak. Indeed, there was something very odd about them, and they gave off a faint aura of magic. He pointed at them and muttered a spell of revelation and suddenly saw them as large fish dressed in uniforms. Quickly he pointed again and said aloud a spell of restoration to remove the enchantment that the Lady had put on them. To his relief, they shrank instantly to two normal-sized fish flopping about on the bridge among their crumpled uniforms. Before Norrell could decide whether to help them—for after all, it was not their fault that they had been bewitched—their wild movements took them over the side of the bridge, and they disappeared into the water. He considered for a moment and then threw the spears in as well.

The gate was locked, but he found the key in one of the pockets of the uniforms. An oddly unmagical mode of protection he thought, as he opened it. He soon discovered why, encountering an invisible barrier with the first step he took. It reminded him of a labyrinth, but it was different from his or Jonathan’s. It made him feel rather queasy, and he wondered if there were additional spells to deter invaders. He stepped back in order to think. He looked around nervously, but there was no movement to be seen. It was clear by now that the Darkness was following him, which probably meant that it would be dark inside the castle by the time he entered. If so, the entire household might have already been alerted by now and be waiting just inside. He wished he knew whether it was day or night here.

Could he get through the labyrinth, peculiar though it was? He finally decided to try closing his eyes, hoping to make his way through as he would any unfamiliar labyrinth. After all, the labyrinths in De Chepe, Hickman and other sources all were ultimately derived from Fairy ones. 

He closed his eyes and started forward, turning always toward the area he sensed to be free of magic. It was not easy to detect these gaps. At times he would have to stop, feeling confused and overpowered. He found that if he simply stood for a time and concentrated, eventually he could distinguish one direction slightly less resistant to him than others. All this took what seemed like hours. At one point it occurred to him that he had no notion whatsoever how much longer the labyrinth went on. It might be vast, and he might so far have woven his way through only a tiny portion of it. He began to panic, feeling trapped but he struggled to reassure himself. That made no sense. Labyrinths were meant to be navigated by those who were permitted to pass through them, and they would not wish to go on for a hugely long time. He considered going back and trying something else, but it would take be a considerable journey just to return to his starting point. Surely he must be more than halfway through. All during this, he dared not open his eyes lest he lose his sense of the labyrinth altogether. It made him feel horribly vulnerable.

Norrell went on through seemingly endless twists and turns. He was close to despair, and he felt that his knees would soon begin to buckle. Even as that thought crossed his mind, he lost all sense of the labyrinth. Surprised, he involuntarily opened his eyes. Before him was a large, damp hallway lit by flames hovering in the air at intervals along the walls. Between them were large, very ancient tapestries. For a moment he puzzled over why the labyrinth would end inside the door rather than directly outside it. It dawned on him that the Fairy might have shared the secrets of its navigation with her friends, so as to allow them to join her for her entertainments without anyone having to admit them. She must have a problem finding enough servants, he thought, if she is turning fish into people. It presumably would never have occurred to her that an enemy, particularly a Christian, could penetrate her labyrinth. Norrell sniffed slightly with scorn and pride, terrified though he was. The thought gave him some courage, though navigating a labyrinth was hardly difficult in comparison with what he might now face.

The hallway continued past some side rooms, perhaps sitting rooms and the like, but they seemed to be disused. Before he had wandered far, he came into the courtyard he recognized from his location spell in the mirror, with its large pond and many riverine plants. He heard soft splashing sounds in the dark and shuddered, wondering what sorts of creatures the Fairy might keep there. Walking around the perimeter of the courtyard, he looked into a large dining room and a room so large that he imagined it must be used for the Fairy Revels that played so large a part in the lives of this wicked race.

Walking a short way into the ballroom, he could hear in the far distance the dim sounds of voices and the clatter and clink of utensils. It was probably the servants preparing the banquet, he thought. That’s why none of them was out in the area where he was. Perhaps the kitchen was in the cellar, and thus they were not even aware of the Darkness. Perhaps the time was the same here, then. He had left Hurtfew at mid-afternoon, and it was probably an hour or two later, a time when preparations for the evening’s dinner and entertainment would be underway.

Norrell felt exposed in the large room, and he imagined that some of the servants would eventually arrive to lay the table. They would notice the Darkness and either retreat in fear or come searching for its cause. Looking around furtively, he returned to the courtyard and considered his options. If the Fairy and Jonathan were outdoors somewhere (he struggled not to think of them upstairs in bed, lazily dozing and caressing after an afternoon of pleasure), they would be almost certain to walk along the corridor and through this open area. He walked around examining the trees and found one that grew so close to the wall that he could squeeze into the area behind it and, aided by the Darkness, be hidden from the hallway and the large doors opposite.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sun was beginning to be low in the sky when Jonathan and Lady Turn-of-Tide returned to the quay. They walked a little distance along the shore away from the castle so that she might show him a small herd of white deer that were coming down to drink. They were quite unafraid, and the couple stood watching them for a time. She explained that they were part of her own herd, which provided milk to be turned into cheese. Jonathan thought that sounded quite pleasant and considered whether it would be safe for him to try such Fairy cheese.

There were some exotic waterfowl swimming near the shore a little further along. They walked closer to observe these. Jonathan looked around and thought how much he would enjoy this if Gilbert were with him. Indeed, he had to admit that he was enjoying this day’s outing, but he could not imagine doing these same things over and over for decades, even centuries, as Fairies seemed perfectly content to do.

Finally the Lady bade farewell to the birds and turned to him. “Well, I suppose we should return to change for dinner and the dancing. I’m sure my lady friends will be eager to partner with you again, but I want you to save some dances for me. I shall let you know which ones.”

They turned to go, with Jonathan continuing to gaze across the lake and marvel at the amazing illusion of a huge mountain range rising up abruptly from an ocean of peach-yellow dunes. Suddenly the Lady shrieked, making him start. He turned to look at her. She was staring in horror toward the castle. Strange’s eyes followed hers. His heart skipped a beat and he began to gasp raggedly with excitement. The Dark Tower was standing, as still and silent as the phantom mountain range, right up against the castle—indeed, slightly overlapping it. 

“Gilbert,” he breathed, barely audibly. He wondered if he should rush to the foot of the great column and find the archway and thus escape. But could he be sure Gilbert was still there? Would he have left Hurtfew at a short distance and gone into the castle, bringing the Darkness with him? That was what he himself would do, he realized, had their positions been reversed. The fact that the Darkness has moved partway over the castle suggested that the other magician was inside. Gilbert had probably assumed that his lover was locked up somewhere inside the castle and would bravely enter it. And the archway would thus move with the Darkness and be somewhere inside the castle. Strange could not retreat to Hurtfew and leave his lover wandering about the castle looking for him.

At any rate, the chance to run had passed. The Lady grabbed him by the arm and began walking at a very rapid pace back toward the house, nearly dragging him with her. 

“That wretched little man! How dare he? I removed you from that terrible Darkness to free you, and now he is trying to imprison you in it again. Well, he will learn a lesson today!”

Strange struggled to keep up. “Please, my Lady! Do not harm him. If you do defeat him—”

Lady Turn-of-Tide snorted. “If! There is no if about it. How he thinks he can …” she trailed off, shaking her head indignantly.

“Well, then, when you defeat him, please do so in such a way as not to injure him, or God forbid, kill him.”

“Jonathan, you are all too sympathetic toward him. Still, I suppose he treated you reasonably well, despite the overpowering tedium of such a life.” A thought came to her, and she halted and pulled his arm so they were facing each other. “If I spare him as you ask, will you promise to stay here with me for as long as I wish you to? To obey me and continue to court me and then enter into the much closer bond with me that I envisioned from the start?”

Jonathan thought frantically. He had longed for Gilbert to rescue him, but he had also faced the fact that the other magician might not be able to do that. In that case, he would be trapped here any way, exactly as the Lady had just specified. He had depended then, in his despair, on Gilbert’s success. He could only do so again now. 

“I agree, under these conditions. He must leave here unscathed and be allowed to return to the Darkness and depart, without your taking any revenge upon him whatsoever. Or any of your friends’ doing so,” he added, suspecting that he had seen a sly glint appear in her eye. It disappeared when he added the proviso.

The Lady chafed slightly but replied. “Fine. I agree. If you promise to stay as I have demanded, he shall leave exactly as he came, with no further consequences to him.” She looked at him somewhat sourly. “You are lucky that you are so charming, Jonathan. Under ordinary circumstances, I certainly would never agree to such a thing. This man has challenged me!”

“Thank you, my Lady!”

They resumed hurrying back to the castle. Near the entrance, the Lady stopped and looked around. “Where are the guards? Perhaps they have dragged the Other Magician back to his home.” She peered off along the track through the woods, enveloped in the Darkness.

Strange also tried to see through the Darkness, but Hurtfew was too far away—possibly further away than the other side of the Darkness. Which should confirm that Gilbert was inside the castle. He was not about to alert the Lady to that fact, so he gazed around as if baffled. 

It occurred to him that Gilbert had somehow managed to defeat the guards, which gave him a moment of elation—until he realized that instead they might have dragged Gilbert inside in order to lock him up. He wondered if the castle contained a dungeon. It seemed more than likely.

The same thought must to have occurred to the Lady. She seized his arm again, and made a gesture with her other arm, presumably removing the labyrinth. They entered the castle together.

Inside, nothing seemed to have changed, apart from the fact that everything was difficult to see because the Darkness had invaded it. The torches along the hallway still burned, though their flames were dimmer than usual. There was no sound or movement. 

“Perhaps the guards have imprisoned him,” the Lady said, echoing Strange’s thought. He hoped that if that were the case, she would let Gilbert go, even if he himself would be doomed to stay with her forever. Yet he could not picture Gilbert being so pusillanimous as to approach the castle only to allow himself to be captured in such a fashion. Especially not by those two dullards guarding the gate. Surely he would have anticipated the possible threats and been prepared to defend himself.

They walked quietly and cautiously along the hallway and into the central courtyard. Still there was no sign of movement apart from the slight shimmer of the water in the light of the stars and the glowing creatures in the trees. From a distance came the sound of the servants preparing dinner, and a few of them had lit candles and were laying the table in the dining room. 

The Lady went over to the door and called to them, “Have you seen any one about? Have the guards brought in a prisoner?”

The men looked at her in puzzlement. One replied, “No, my Lady. The only unusual thing that has happened was the arrival of this strange Darkness. Is there a terrible storm approaching, do you think? Or have you perhaps created it for some reason?”

The Lady paused for a moment. “I believe we have an unfriendly visitor who has traveled here in this Darkness. Do not worry! I shall take care of him. If you are worried, go back downstairs.” She closed the doors to the dining room and came back to Strange, looking around with a frown that blended puzzlement and annoyance. “Where is he, do you suppose?” she asked, but Strange would not have answered her even had he known where Norrell was.

They were not left long in suspense, since Norrell quietly emerged from his hiding place behind the tree. He walked around the pond to position himself between its edge and the Lady. Strange remained slightly behind her to her left. He was thrilled to see the other magician but afraid to speak or move without knowing what Norrell had planned. He could only be ready to join in and assist if possible.

Norrell opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Finally he managed to say, “My Lady, I assure you that I am not here to hurt you.” 

She laughed in scorn. “As if you could, you ugly little Christian.”

Norrell drew himself up to his full height and replied with great dignity. "Madame, I may be small, but I am not ugly. Mr Strange has assured me of that most convincingly." 

He glanced quickly at Strange for the first time. Strange gave him the tiniest nod of encouragement.

The Lady made a dismissive gesture. “Jonathan? MY Jonathan. Come, you need not glare at me. He and I are quite close, you should know. He has come here to stay with me. He is currently courting me, in the proper Christian tradition. We have already spent some lovely days and evenings together. I do not have any wish to hurt you, either, pathetic creature as you are. You have already lost him. If you have come here, as I presume, to try and steal him away from me, you would do well to turn around at once and leave. I have even taken down the labyrinth to make it easier for you.”

Norrell swallowed hard and replied in a shaky voice, “No, I have not come to steal him. I have come to take your castle away from you.”

Strange was astonished by Gilbert’s words. He did not think the other magician sounded entirely confident that he could take the castle. Lady Turn-of-Tide stared at Gilbert in equal astonishment and then broke into contemptuous laughter again. By now Strange had become very tired of The Lady’s laughter. It had been bad enough when she was laughing from amusement, even at his expense, but now she was laughing at Gilbert in scorn.

Keeping an eye on the Lady, Norrell reached into his bag and fumbled slightly before drawing forth the two small stones.

The Lady smiled, but somewhat uneasily. “You think to defeat me with those pebbles? Just how do you plan to do that?”

Norrell did not reply but licked his lips, glancing about the courtyard and then staring at her as if waiting for something. Strange wondered if he really had a clear plan and felt his heart sink.

Suddenly with a shriek far louder than the one she had uttered upon seeing the Darkness over her castle, the Lady transformed. To Strange’s horror, she grew in size and shape until she was a huge Harpy. She spread her wings, which were so wide as to blot out even the faint starlight from above, though the lights in the trees glittered in her large black eyes and shone on her sharp teeth. Her wings flapped, lifting her up so that she could reach for Gilbert.

“My Lady, stop! You promised not to harm him! I shall keep my own promise only if you will stop now.”

She ignored him and continued to reach forward with her talons, as if preparing to tear Norrell apart.

At her transformation, Norrell had at first cowered down and looked away, but as Strange made his plea, the other magician straightened up and placed one of the stones to his eye—the one with the small hole. The Harpy faltered and flew slightly up and backward, away from him.

“You need not employ your devious glamour in order to frighten me, madame! I see you for what you are, and you are no monster.” His voice seemed stronger now, and Strange gasped with relief as the Lady transformed again, returning to her normal appearance. He looked forward to asking Gilbert about the trick with the little stone.

She stared at Norrell with a look of profound disgust. “So, you know a trifle of Fairy lore and cannot be intimidated in that way. I had thought to scare you into leaving without my having to harm you—as a favour to Jonathan, you must understand, and not through any pity that I feel toward you. You who have oppressed him for so long!”

She started toward him, whether to seize and imprison him or to push him into the pond or for some other purpose Strange could not tell. Norrell hastily dodged to one side, keeping his eye on her as he held up the other little stone and tossed the bag aside to free his other hand. He put the stone to his mouth, uttered a word that Strange could not hear and dropped it into the pond near its edge.

The Lady, who had almost lost her balance on the edge of the pond when Norrell moved, saw him do this and frowned suspiciously. She made another attempt to grab him, but in the blink of an eye the surface of the pond began roiling fiercely, as if it were a giant cauldron over a roaring fire. Water flowed upward over the edge and began streaming around and around Norrell. The Lady stopped abruptly and took a few steps backward. 

Strange grinned. Yes, the other magician obviously had a plan. “More than a trifle of Fairy lore. Fairies cannot cross running water!” he whispered. 

A sense of magic was spreading through the entire courtyard. It seemed to Strange oddly familiar, but it was not something he had experienced recently. Then it dawned on him: Gilbert had cast a spell similar to the Thomas Godbless one they had used on the night of the Disenchantment. Apparently the natural elements used to build and decorate the Lady’s castle were bowing down to the other magician and protecting him. He had been wondering if there was anything he could do to aid Gilbert, perhaps by distracting the Lady in some fashion. At this point it occurred to him that Gilbert was doing quite well on his own. 

He looked around. The plants in the water and those placed about the courtyard were moving, as if pushed by a breeze that Strange could not feel. They swayed as if they were straining toward Gilbert. The flagstones and walls seemed to be trembling, as if eager to let forth their power on his behalf. 

The Lady stamped her foot in frustration. Then she turned to Strange. “Jonathan, I have tried not to harm him, but if I must in order to get rid of him, I shall. Tell him to leave if you value him so highly.”

Strange refused to respond, but he realized that he had been overly confident. Gilbert might be able to defeat the Lady if she were holding back as a result of her promise to him, but if she finally unleashed her full powers, what chance would he have? He resolved that if it came to an all-out battle between the two, he would join Gilbert, whatever the consequences to himself.

While he was thinking, the otter climbed out of the water and stood on its hind feet before Norrell, looking up at him through intelligent, bright eyes before slipping in and out between his legs and rubbing itself against his ankles.

Strange could tell that Gilbert was not happy at this contact and that he was trying to keep his displeasure from showing in his face. Strange wondered if Gilbert’s extreme hatred of cats was only part of a larger fear of all furry little creatures. If so, he hoped his lover would not come out suddenly in red pimples. More to the point, he hoped that the otter would not break Gilbert’s concentration.

He gasped as the Lady paused, perhaps thinking of magic that would not harm Gilbert, before raising an arm to perform her spell. Before she could do anything further, however, the otter darted over to her, nipped her ankle hard and went back to go sit upright in front of Gilbert, this time facing the Lady, as if to guard him. Strange could have sworn that it wore an expression of defiance, though he assumed that was his fancy. 

The Lady rather awkwardly lifted her foot and rubbed the ankle, glaring at Norrell.

Norrell said uneasily, “I … I did not tell it to do that.” He took a small step back from the otter, which twisted to look curiously back at him. When the Lady did not approach Norrell, the animal dived into the pond and disappeared.

“No, but your magic, whatever it is, no doubt gave it the unnatural impulse to turn against me!”

“Perhaps. Nevertheless, madame, I would never willingly hurt a lady. Not unless she attacked me and gave me no choice.”

She stared at him haughtily for a moment and eventually gave him a grudging nod of acknowledgement.

Norrell surveyed her considerable height—for she was as tall as Strange if not a bit taller—and her powerful frame. “In fact,” he went on, “were we to engage in a purely physical fight, I have no doubt that you could defeat me. Still, in a magical duel, I might hope to hold my own and even triumph.”

The Lady pressed her lips together in indignation. “You? Defeat me in magic! The impudence!” She glanced at Strange and then looked back at Norrell with a contemptuous laugh. “But you are quite mistaken if you think that Jonathan needs rescuing. He is delighted to have escaped his tedious life with you. I told you, we have spent two glorious days together, walking in the woods, boating on the lake and dancing. Things that it would never occur to you to do with him, yet which he enjoys enormously. My beauty has bewitched him, and he wants nothing more than to stay here with me. Well, look at you! Is it any wonder that he would?”

Strange listened to her, appalled. He had been with Gilbert long enough now that the other magician seemed to have no doubt that they loved each other with a profound and abiding devotion. Yet he suspected that deep down there was a hidden trace of uncertainty in Gilbert, a fear that Strange would eventually find some one more attractive and leave him. Whether or not Lady Turn-of-Tide sensed that, she was hitting back at Gilbert in what might prove a more effective way than magic.

Indeed, Gilbert’s face reflected his growing uncertainty, and he looked to Strange with a sad, fearful expression. Strange frowned anxiously and shook his head, mouthing the word “Please” at him. 

Norrell’s fear vanished, and he faced the Lady resolutely. “We shall leave that up to Jonathan, my Lady. I shall at least afford him the liberty to chuze for himself.”

“Jonathan has already chozen! He will stay here with me, and I warn you, if I must kill you to stop your pathetic attempts to get him back, I shall.”

Norrell gulped and faltered for a moment, but he roused himself and asked, “And how would you do that? Your castle has declared its loyalty to me. It will defend me, with more than nips and little streams, if you try.”

The Lady looked uncertain for a brief moment, but she was also growing increasingly angry. This time she raised both arms, pointing at Norrell. As she was about to cast her spell, however, the branches of a tree a short way behind her bent down and twined about her, lifting her and setting her on a large limb about fifteen feet off the ground. She snarled down at Norrell in frustration and sat panting.

Norrell made a little sweeping gesture, and the circular flowing water retreated into the pond. He walked over and looked up at her.

“I told you I am not here to steal Jonathan, but I am here to strike a bargain with you, so that you will let him go home with me.”

She paused, obviously not wanting to give way in any fashion but curious as to what he might mean. “And what might you possibly have that I would want? A perfect gem in that little bag of yours? I have all the gems I need. The rarest things you own are books, and I scorn them.”

Norrell managed to smile slightly. “I shall return this castle to you, my Lady, in exchange for him. Surely it is more valuable to you than he is.”

Lady Turn-of-Tide looked at him in amused astonishment. “You cannot give it to me! It is already mine.”

Norrell surveyed the tree and glanced at the pond. “Does it behave as if it is yours? It has given itself to me. Take note, I did not steal it, either,” he added.

She said sullenly, “How can I bargain with you from up here? Let me down so that we may discuss this exchange.”

Norrell stood looking doubtfully up at her, but he gestured, and the tree set her down on the flagstone floor. She brushed and straightened her skirt, which had little whirlpools at the points where the tree-branch had created wrinkles. They gradually disappeared, and the endless flow of water around her returned.

She moved prudently away from the trees and the edge of the pond and suddenly wheeled on Norrell.

“You little—ˮ She raised both hands again, as if to hurl lightning bolts or some equally deadly magical blow at her enemy, but Norrell was ready for her. He uttered the same word again and tapped the floor with his foot. Instantly blocks of stone between them rose up and formed a square cell higher than the Lady’s head. At the top, some slid inward to form a roof. At once the Lady began to cast spells to free herself. The stone blocks quivered and rumbled.

Strange finally felt that he could join Gilbert without distracting or endangering his lover. He moved to stand beside Gilbert, who was staring at the stone prison. He gave Strange a brief smile before returning his eyes to the surface of the stone.

“Can she get out?” Strange asked.

Norrell shook his head somewhat tentatively. “I don’t think so. She is trying to use magic, but at the moment the stone is in thrall to my spell, and I doubt anything she could do can counteract that.”

Strange smiled. “You have trapped her in darkness. How ironical!”

The rumbling and shuddering inside the stone cell suddenly stopped. They heard the Lady’s voice. “Let me out, and we can discuss your bargain. I presume you want to make me your Fairy servant, to keep my castle and to take Jonathan from me, you dreadful man!”

“No, I only want Jonathan. I shall return your castle to you after we leave, assuming you agree to my terms. You may continue your life here as you did before you took Jonathan, again subject to those terms. I shall free you from this cell now, but remember, you must be reasonable and deal with me. If you attack me again, I shall perforce have to order these same stones to rise up and crush you!”

After a short silence, she said, “That is how the former king of Lost-hope died. Now I understand. You cast that spell, and now you use it against me. I agree not to fight any longer. Let me out.”

Norrell tapped his foot again, and the stones reversed their course and slid back into the floor. The Lady stood still, looking between the two magicians. She said reluctantly to Norrell, “I do admit, you have surprising skill in magic. Your books have done you more good than I would have believed possible.” She seemed already to regret her concession as she added bitterly, “What are these terms that I must obey?”

Norrell did not remove his eyes from her but said, “Jonathan, there is a sheaf of papers in that bag. Could you please fetch it out for me? Also a pen-box and ink-well, so that the Lady can sign after I have read out the terms.”

Strange brought the items to him, noting that there were quite a few pages to the document, all covered with Norrell’s neat handwriting.

Joy welled up within Strange, who was genuinely beginning to believe that he was about to be freed and could return to Hurtfew with Gilbert. Feeling oddly giddy and mischievous, he handed over the wad of paper, saying, “So that’s what kept you so long.”

Norrell looked briefly at him and shrugged apologetically. “You know that one must be extremely precise in such matters. Oh, I see, you are teazing me.” He smiled very briefly and added, “Perhaps there is a more appropriate place and time for that, Jonathan.”

Strange saw that the Lady was also assessing the size of the document in Gilbert’s hand, looking faintly appalled. He followed the Lady’s glance and then looked back at her, saying, “He has extraordinarily small handwriting.” She frowned at him, and he tried to suppress his little smile.

Norrell shot him an “are you quite finished?” look and turned back to face the Fairy, drawing himself up. “Here are the terms, madame.” He began to read.

Strange’s giddiness vanished. Both he and the Lady were desperately interested in the content of the agreement and listened closely. As Norrell went on in his dry “reading voice,” however, they became a trifle impatient and had to struggle to attend to him and catch every phrase, every proviso.

“ … and you will not seek any form of revenge upon Mr Strange, Mr Norrell, their acquaintances, their servants, their property or the persons and properties of their friends and acquaintances or any one or any thing in the lands of Great Britain and Christendom. This includes a prohibition on any type of spell that you might cast to make any of the aforementioned unhappy or unlucky in any fashion. You will not seek to induce, even by the slightest of hints, any friend or acquaintance to seek such revenge on your behalf or through their own desire to please you, subject to the same limitations. You will not seek to hire or enchant any strangers for any of these same purposes, subject to the same limitations. You will not …”

As Gilbert read, Strange sought to catch any omission or ambiguity that Lady Turn-of-Tide might seize upon in order to do the two magicians some mischief. The Lady had not entirely been able to suppress a sly look in her face as Gilbert began to read, and Strange knew that she was similarly listening for any weak spots in Gilbert’s text, though for a very different purpose. After five minutes Strange could not detect any. Indeed, Gilbert had included the same of prohibitions a number of times in different terms, obviously with the intention of using redundancy to avoid just such omissions and ambiguities. 

The Lady, on the other hand, seemed occasionally to react with a secret excitement, as if she thought she had caught Norrell in some slippage of language. Each time, however, her excitement faded as Norrell added some further condition that clearly prevented any inadvertent lapse that would allow her to evade the intentions of the contract.

About eight minutes after he had begun, Norrell moved into a series of definitions of the time limitations on these prohibitions, essentially saying in a particularly long-winded fashion that every provision of their contract would remain valid in perpetuity.

By the end of that portion of the document, the Lady seemed to have realized that she could not avoid agreeing to a contract forbidding her even the faintest chance to strike back at the two magicians. She assumed a bored, annoyed expression, clearly wishing to convey that she was quite unconcerned that Norrell had outwitted her.

Finally, after ten or so minutes of reading, Norrell seemed to be winding up. “In short, you shall never undertake any actions whatsoever that result from anything that happened during your planning and execution of your abduction of Mr Strange …”

The Lady looked hopeful for one last time, but …

“ … or, to put it another way, your invitation to him to come and live with you in your castle …”

She subsided into gloom once more.

“ … and during Mr Norrell’s visit to said castle for the purposes of taking Mr Strange back to live with him at Hurtfew Abbey,” Norrell concluded.

Norrell considered the pages in his hand for a moment, as if wondering whether he should add anything. Then he looked up, swallowed and said, “Those are the terms of the agreement, madame. I consider them fair. None of us is left in a situation different to what it was before you took Mr Strange away. Of course, Mr Strange and I will have learned some valuable lessons about Fairy abduction, but at the price of considerable fear and unpleasantness.” He shook his head censoriously. “Really, if the members of your race could only understand and accept the fact that for Christians, so-called Fairy Revels are not—” 

Strange hastily cut in. “Gilbert, I think we should allow Lady Turn-of-Tide a moment to consider the terms of your proposed agreement.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose so. I beg your pardon, madame. For clarity’s sake, would you care for me to read out the contract again?”

“No, pray do not bother,” she replied hastily. “I am sure I understood its terms sufficiently. Well, I have no choice. I must have my castle back. In short, I agree to your contract in its entirety. You may take him away in exchange for the return of my home.”

“Will you sign your name to it to seal the bargain?” Norrell asked, signaling Strange to bring forward the writing materials.

With a small flourish, Norrell summoned one of the flagstones to rise up and form a desk upon which the Lady could sign.

“Now he’s just showing off,” Strange thought, unable to suppress an affectionate little smile. “Well, let him. He’s earned it many times over.”

As the lady dipped the pen in the ink, Norrell pointed to the bottom of the page. “You should read the note in fine print at the bottom of the page, my Lady, which states that any name you choose to employ in signing, whether or not it be your real one, will be equally binding.

She hesitated and then shrugged, signing “Lady Turn-of-Tide” in large writing that contrasted with the dense text above.

Now that the bargain was sealed, the Lady seemed to lose some of her resentment. She turned to Strange and sighed. “Well, I am sorry to lose you, Jonathan, or perhaps I should call you Mr Strange again. You have been pleasant company for the short time you were here, and I had high hopes for our love.”

Strange bowed slightly. “I am sorry as well, Lady Turn-of-Tide, for any false hopes I may have raised during our courtship. I’m afraid, however, that a true union between us could never have occurred, beautiful and hospitable though you are. Mr Norrell and I pledged our loyalty to each other years ago. Even though in England two men cannot legally marry or indeed have intimate relations, we have become as close as ever husband and wife could be.” He clasped Norrell’s hand.

She studied them and shook her head in disbelief. “Given your taste in lovers, I believe I made a dreadful mistake in chuzing you in the first place, Mr Strange. Tell me, was your courtship a very long one?”

Strange considered this. “Well, we knew each for nearly eight years before commencing to live together as lovers. I was away at the war for a large part of that, and I cannot say that the time afterward was exactly a courtship…” He looked at Norrell and smiled. “ … and yet in an odd way perhaps it turned out to be one. At any rate, when we found ourselves trapped together in the Darkness, the final stage of our courtship proceeded relatively quickly by Christian standards, but I suppose that was acceptable because we had been friends for so long.”

“I see. Well, Mr Norrell, I suppose that, given what has just happened, I must admit that you are not quite as stupid as I had been led to believe and that you are not … so much ugly as … exceedingly plain.”

Norrell stared at her for a moment, his lips pressed together. Strange nudged him and he said flatly, “Thank you, my Lady.”

“At any rate, I shall have to avoid making such an underestimation in my next choice of a Christian. I must be sure that he has no attachment that could make him reluctant to court me.”

Strange said, “If I may suggest it, my Lady, might you not reconsider your plan to find a Christian lover? I’m sure there must be Fairy gentlemen who would be acceptable to you, and no doubt many would find you alluring indeed.”

The Lady made a little disdainful face. “Perhaps you are right. Your Christian courtships sound as if they would become quite tedious after a while.”

“I’m sure many Christians find them so, but that is the custom.”

Strange turned to find Norrell kneeling by the edge of the pond, his sleeves pushed up, as he groped in the water. Soon he brought up the little stone and handed it to Strange, who dropped it back into the bag, along with the document and the writing supplies.

As Norrell rolled his sleeves down, he said, “I assure you, my Lady, that I shall remove my spell from your castle as soon as we reach our home, which is waiting a short distance outside your door. The castle will once again answer to your authority rather than mine, exactly as it did before. Allowing for delays, let us say within the hour.”

“I assume that you will do so, since I need only abide by our contract if you will honour it as well. Good-bye!”

She stood and watched without expression as the two magicians clasped hands once more and hurried toward the entrance. Strange started to try and stammer out his thanks, but Norrell cried, “Oh, that can wait. I want to be out of here and back at home as soon as possible. I do not see how she could violate the terms of that contract—”

“No, it is quite precise in its wording, but I would expect no less of you.”

Despite their fears, no guard or other impediment appeared during their walk. As they crossed the bridge over the moat, Norrell glanced into the water and said, “I suppose she can enchant them again and have her sentries back.” 

Strange looked at him quizzically. 

Norrell replied, “The fish. Poor fellows.” He pointed at the two empty uniforms still lying on the boards, barely visible in the Darkness. Strange nodded in understanding, and they walked quickly on.

When they reached Hurtfew, they entered and went immediately to the library. Norrell crossed to his basin and filled it from the pitcher. He had left the spell for moving the house back to its regular place in Kassel by the basin, in case Lucas needed it in an emergency. He quickly read it out, and they experienced the usual brief, dizzying sense of magic at work. They did not feel the movement of the building around them, but they had done this often enough that they had no doubt it had happened. 

Norrell said, “Now, I trust we are out of Faerie. That is, Faerie proper. Before we do anything else, I must cast the spell that returns the Lady’s castle to her! I cannot risk her becoming impatient and declaring our contract void!”


	4. The Bravery of Mr Norrell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell test the new premises that now govern their existence in the Darkness and celebrate their reunion with an evening of passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter with explicit content.

Norrell touched the water and murmured the counterspell that should remove his control over Lady Turn-of-Tide’s castle. They both felt the magic work, but they looked at each other doubtfully.

Norrell was still panting from anxiety and the unaccustomed effort of his rapid departure from the castle. He managed to say, “That should have worked, but I would like to have assurance. After all, if I do not uphold my part of the agreement, I can hardly expect Lady Turn-of-Tide to do so.”

They pushed the basin aside and arranged the small mirror and dead sprigs of thyme on the table in its place. They spoke the spell together and immediately saw the Lady, as they had left her, in her courtyard. She looked as if she were trying to suppress a great emotion and look calm and collected. She was striding about, touching the plants as she passed. They showed no sign of withdrawing from her, seeming rather to rustle and reach out to her. She approached the central pond, which lapped gently against the edge of the stone floor as the otter swam over to greet her. This seemed to cheer her up somewhat. She rose, and with a last glance around the courtyard, turned to enter the dining room.

Norrell stood leaning against the table and letting his breath return to normal. Strange walked around, looking at the library, as if unable to believe that he was home and safe. Finally he reached the sopha and turned with a smile to Norrell, who darted across the room, squeaking out, “Oh, Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan!” and, almost throwing himself into the other magician’s arms. Though larger, the younger man was caught off-guard and collapsed backward onto the sopha. He cupped his hands on the sides of Norrell’s face and replied teasingly but with a delight he could not conceal, “Oh, Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert!” Norrell laughed and burrowed into his arms and against his torso, hugging him and stretching up to frantically kiss his cheek and neck. Strange thoroughly enveloped Norrell in his arms and squeezed him as tightly as he dared. In between bouts of kissing, Norrell continued to exclaim “Jonathan!” 

Strange returned the kisses. “Gilbert, my sweet Gilbert,” Strange whispered into his ear. “You are not only a great magician but a brave one as well.” 

Norrell pulled slightly away from him. “I am so happy … that I can hardly catch my breath.” He struggled for a moment to draw a deep breath as Strange stroked him soothingly. Finally he inhaled and then sighed, smiling. “That’s better.”

He settled back down against Strange, and they entwined themselves as thoroughly as they could manage.

Norrell said softly, “I am happier, I think, than I have ever been. Even more than when you told me you loved me. Before that, I at least thought that I had you as a friend, perhaps forever, here in the Darkness. When you disappeared I thought I had lost you entirely, that I would never see you again. But now … what a relief!”

Strange pressed his cheek against Norrell’s. He considered telling his lover about the promise he had made to Lady Turn-of-Tide in exchange for his safety, but he decided it would be better never to reveal it. He replied, “Yes, I’m happier than ever before as well. Of course, I feared that I would never see you, either, but when you suddenly appeared in the castle, confronting the Lady, I was sure that she would kill you or banish you to some horrible realm far away. When you managed to defeat her … my God, what a relief indeed!”

After a short time, Strange raised his head and looked around the room, which was lit as brightly as usual, as if Lucas had kept the lamps and candles burning in case the pair returned safely. He sighed with a smile. “It is so good to be back here with you in this beautiful room.”

“Mmmm,” Norrell moaned, nestling against him. “This is what I wanted that horrible morning, and then I turned over and found you gone.” He buried his face against Strange’s chest.

Strange continued to stroke his back. “If I had stayed there in bed, I wonder if Lady Turn-of-Tide or whatever her name really is could have managed to spirit me away. But I gather that she had been awaiting her chance for some time, and eventually she would have found an occasion when I was vulnerable to her spells.”

Norrell gulped and hesitated for a long time before raising his head and asking, “Did she … I assume she wanted you for … to, um, be in her bed and … did she …?”

“No! No, fortunately she did not have the opportunity. I managed rather cleverly to avoid that. I convinced her that the Christian tradition dictates a long period of gallantry and polite courtship before a man and a woman go to bed together. She seems to have found us Christians rather intriguing, and perhaps play-acting at our supposed customs appealed to her. At any rate, of course, Fairies have a different sense of time than we do, and she was less impatient than one might expect. I must say, I was rather worried about trying that ploy. I feared that any such implication that I was eager to court her could be taken by her to be a binding agreement. You know how Fairies are with contracts and promises.”

Norrell made a little face of disgust and nodded.

“I was desperate, however, to create a delay, any sort of delay that might give you time to devise a way to rescue me—or for me to discover a means to escape. So, I went ahead with the notion, and it worked! She boasted of it to you, remember? But you arrived in time. I was convinced that I would not be able to perform in bed with her, even if I considered it safest to placate her and do what she wanted me to. My worst fear was that she would use some sort of spell to make me desire her against my will. Believe me, though, the prospect of physical contact of that sort with her was simply appalling. She did kiss me on the cheek once.” He pointed to his right cheek. “Apparently she thought she was giving me a tantalizing hint of pleasures to come. Her lips left a horribly cold, tingling sensation on my skin. I cannot imagine what being physically intimate with her beyond that would have been like.”

Norrell sat up suddenly, staring at his cheek and looking slightly revolted.

Strange chuckled. “Gilbert, you have already kissed me quite a bit and not noticed any contamination.”

“Yes, but I was kissing you on your left cheek. She did not kiss you there, did she?”

“No, but right or left, you need not fear being tainted by the lingering effects of her touch. Afterward I bathed and shaved—at her instigation, since she wanted me to be attractive for that first night’s revels. And that was two days ago. In fact, kiss me on that same spot, Gilbert. “I want your sweet mouth to drive away the memory of my time with her.”

“I … did she kiss your cheek again after you shaved?”

“No. Do not fear that your kiss will mingle in the slightest with one bestowed upon me by the Fairy.”

Norrell smiled, stretched up and softly kissed his way around and across Strange’s right cheek. 

Strange’s eyes slid shut, and he sighed happily. “And she thought I would prefer her to you! Your warm lips and all the rest of you are infinitely preferable to her icy beauty.” He cupped Norrell’s head again with both hands, spreading the long fingers wide around his wig and staring into his eyes. “By the way, is the labyrinth in place? Do we have complete privacy? I have to admit to be rather tired and still a trifle unnerved by my experiences. I do not think I could manage intimacies right now, but I should not wish any one to walk in upon us being so affectionate.”

Norrell’s smile faded suddenly. “Oh! No, I did not put the labyrinth in place. In fact, the servants have been quite worried about you. They all helped me search for hours before I decided that you must be far enough away to necessitate my locating you with my basin. They also know that you were kidnapped by a Fairy. Before we do anything else, I should go and tell them that I have returned and brought you with me.”

“Yes, indeed, we must relieve their minds! Let us go together.”

As the two walked toward the kitchen, Norrell briefly described the long searches through the house and grounds that the servants had all participated in. Strange was quite touched. 

They found the servants gathered in the kitchen, lingering after their supper and talking in subdued tones. They all looked up with astonishment as Norrell and Strange appeared in the doorway and rose to their feet as one. Lucas seemed to restrain himself from embracing Strange only with difficulty, Davey burst into tears and a small chorus of cheers and words of congratulation went up from the others.

Mrs Greeley wiped away a tear and asked Strange, “But how did you manage to return, sir?”

Strange grinned and stepped slightly to his left so that Norrell could sidle up beside him. “Well, naturally Mr Norrell used his tremendous magical abilities and rescued me!”

The servants all stared at Norrell, wide-eyed. They were so used to saving their master from mice, imagined intruders and other little frights that they found it difficult to image him confronting a hostile Fairy. After a moment of astonished silence, they clapped and exclaimed delightedly. Norrell blushed and shrugged. “I couldn’t leave Mr Strange trapped in a Fairy’s castle forever!”

The servants began asking questions, but Strange raised his hands to silence them.

“It’s too long a tale for tonight, but at some point we can tell it all. We could perhaps have a celebratory dinner in a day or two.” His mind was racing to think how he and Norrell could explain the abduction without indelicate references to Lady Turn-of-Tide’s designs upon his person, but perhaps they could concoct a version of the story along the lines of the editions of Shakespeare that Mr Thomas Bowdler had been publishing over the past decade and more. 

The idea of such a dinner and a longer explanation of how Mr Strange had been rescued proved popular and was agreed upon. After a short but enthusiastic interlude in which the staff again expressed their relief and delight at having Mr Strange with them once more and their plaudits to their master for having effected his rescue, they set about cobbling together a cold dinner for the two magicians.

While waiting for their meal, the two magicians sat in the dining room sipping sherry. They did so in silence for a time, gazing at each other and holding hands. 

At last Strange said quietly, “Gilbert, you must have noticed that some important things happened during my abduction, things that seemed to violate the premises of our life here in the Darkness.”

Norrell’s devoted expression became grave and somewhat anxious. He replied, “Yes. Most dramatically, you were outside the Darkness, and of course, you were much further away from me than the magical bond that has forced to stay close to each other would have allowed. The question is, do those changes in our circumstances still obtain, or has that bond been restored? Are you once again unable to go outside the limits of the Darkness? Or if you are able to, have I been affected by the changes you experienced? Might I be able to go out of the Darkness as well?”

Strange nodded. “That sums up the uncertainties we face quite admirably.”

Again they remained silent for a time. Strange finally resumed, “I suppose we must make some tests in order to answer those questions—much as we did together in the early days when we first found ourselves trapped here together in the Darkness.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Could it be tomorrow morning, though? I am quite exhausted, having slept badly for the last two nights and undergone considerable unwonted physical activity during my confrontation with Lady Turn-of-Tide. Moreover, it is late on a February evening. The sun will have set long ago. If one or both of us leave the Darkness, we want it to be in the daytime.”

“Undoubtedly. Besides, I feel in no condition to do anything but enjoy your company tonight.”

The cold meal was served shortly thereafter, and while the magicians ate it, Strange regaled Norrell with anecdotes about the “English” food that Lady Turn-of-Tide’s cook had concocted for him. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After their late dinner, the couple retired to the library once more, being too tired and full of food to contemplate intimate activities beyond cuddling that evening. They sat by the fire, enjoying glasses of madeira-wine.

Strange slumped lazily on the sopha, thinking. All at once he frowned. “Gilbert, how do you expect to be able to enforce the Lady’s contract? There are no legal agreements between Faerie and England. What if she put up additional defences around her castle and snatched me away again?”

“Well, I defeated her once. She can put up spells, but she can’t be sure that I could not counter them and defeat her again. After all, you told her that John Uskglass is in some way protecting us. Perhaps my ability to take her castle away may have convinced her that you were correct. Besides, I think at the end you convinced her that you really do love me and would not wish to stay with her. She is very selfish, as all Fairies are, but would her vanity really allow her to keep you there, knowing you do not love her?”

“Perhaps not. As Fairies go, she seems a decent sort. Oh! But what will she tell her lady friends, who are all so enamoured of me and so jealous of her—to her delight? They will surely enquire after me.”

Norrell pondered for a brief time before replying, “Well, she could tell them that she took you to bed and found that you were not … all that she had hoped. She decided to send you back. These lady Fairies would not blame her mistake in chuzing you. To look at you, one would imagine you quite the romantic, virile, skillful lover … as indeed you are, of course,” he said, squeezing Strange’s hand.

Strange frowned again. “I suppose she could tell them that. Rather embarrassing to me, but then, I am not likely to see any of them again. Oh, and thank you for your kind words about my amatory abilities.”

“Of course, I have no way of comparing you to others, but I cannot imagine I could possibly experience any greater pleasure than you give me—not from you or any one else.”

Gradually Norrell snuggled down against Strange’s side, his head resting on his shoulder and drifted off to sleep. Strange, quietly delighting in their reunion and his safety within Hurtfew and feeling distinctly drowsy himself, held him gently and stared into the fire. Occasionally he again looked around the dimly-lit library and savoured its beauty. Less than three full days away, and yet it seemed more like a month ago that he had been spirited away from this blissful place.

Half an hour or so later the door opened, and Lucas came in to bank the fire and make sure that all the candles were out and the curtains drawn. Seeing Strange and Norrell so closely embraced, he nodded an apology and was about to leave, but Strange gestured for him to enter.

Slowly Lucas approached them and looked down with a smile at his sleeping master. He whispered, “I’m so glad to see the two of you reunited, sir. You two belong together, as I said long ago when I first joined you here. I’m just glad that Davey did not come in with me. He is so sentimental that he would probably again be weeping by now.”

“You’re right, Lucas, Mr Norrell and I belong together. Thank you for all that you did during the searches.”

“Well, the main thing I did was tell Mr Norrell that he had to go and find you. He was so desolated and so terrified that he could barely move. After that, he did pluck up his courage. He realized that he could not go on without you. Truth to tell, I was not sure that he could actually retrieve you, what with Fairies being involved and all, but I knew he had to try. His success surprised me a little, I must admit, but then love can work wonders.”

The two looked affectionately at the sleeping Norrell for a short time, but eventually Lucas’ little smile faded and he looked at Strange hesitantly before speaking. “Sir, just before Mr Norrell left Hurtfew this afternoon, he told me that he might never come back. Naturally I was worried about what would happen to the rest of us if that happened. He was mightily upset and told me what to do go get the others away and back to England—but if you both were killed and the Darkness disappeared, it seemed to me … well, it seemed that we would have no way out of Faerie. Now, when I agreed to come with you and to convince the others to do so, you promised that we would never be in danger. All well and good, and up to now we hadn’t been. But … well, I wonder if you could do something to make sure such a threat could never come upon us again. Because if not … I’m afraid I would have to quit my post and tell the others they should do so, too. You did say we would be free to do so at any time. No, wait, sir, please let me finish. I for one should be very sorry to have to go. These travels and living in other countries have been wonderful, and of course the pay is very generous. But we can’t risk being trapped in some strange world without your help. I’m sure you understand that.”

Strange nodded with a sigh. “Yes, for all our sakes, yours and ours alike, we must come up with some stronger protections for Hurtfew and the Darkness. We should think through all the possible threats and make emergency plans for how to deal with every possible circumstance. Perhaps we could devise a way to create a permanent portal through which you and the others could escape the Darkness if it became necessary. I did something of the sort when I retrieved my wife from her enchantment in Lost-hope.”

Lucas nodded. “That sounds like a splendid idea, sir. We would much appreciate your thinking out any safeguards that you can.”

Strange replied, “We shall set about it tomorrow, after we make some tests about our new limitations, or lack thereof, here in the Darkness. Lucas, I am very sorry that we inadvertently placed you and the others in a position that could have had a dangerous outcome for you. We simply had no idea that a Fairy might abduct one of us, but we should have foreseen such a threat, as well as others that might come to pass if we do not take greater precautions.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” Strange yawned. “Well, time to retire, I think.” He looked down at Norrell. “I may need your help getting him up to our bedroom.”

He stroked Norrell’s cheek with gentle fingers, and the older magician stirred and without opening his eyes stretched up and kissed Strange’s neck. Slowly he sat up and looked groggily around. He started slightly at seeing Lucas watching them and primly scooted a short distance away from Strange. 

“I beg your pardon,” he said, looking nervously at the floor.

“No need, sir. I’m afraid I came in to close down the library thinking that the two of you had retired for the night.”

Strange pulled Norrell back against himself with one arm. “Lucas tells me that he encouraged you to rescue me.”

“Oh, yes, well, I … I was so stunned that for a while I could not think properly. My mind just wandered hither and yon. I could not imagine doing anything, let alone confronting a lady Fairy. But, as Lucas said, I had to do so. I knew he was right. So I did.”

Strange grinned. “You did, indeed. Thank you, Lucas, for that. And now Mr Norrell and I will indeed retire. I don’t think we need your help for that, so you may close down the library. Good night.”

“Good night, sirs.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning, after much-needed baths and a quick breakfast, they went to the library and sat together on the sopha. 

After a short silence, Norrell asked, “Shall we make the tests, as you said? We really should know what our current situation is in regard to the Darkness.”

Strange nodded, and yet he seemed singularly unwilling to rise and begin those tests.

Norrell said thoughtfully, “We spent such a long time wishing to leave the Darkness before deciding that it was a gift of John Uskglass and that we wished to remain together in it. Well, it was only a few weeks, and yet so very much happened during that time. Then we lived together quite happily in the Darkness after that decision. It must have been most disorienting to find yourself outside it. What were your feelings when you realized that you were surrounded by daylight, if only the light that filtered down into the Lady’s courtyard?”

Strange thought back, breathing more heavily. “Well, as you say, at first we wished to escape it altogether. Later, when we decided to stay within it, I often thought how nice it would be just to see the sun occasionally. But when I found myself suddenly removed from the Darkness, I was quite terrified. I wanted nothing so much as to get back to it, back to my Gilbert.” He sniffed and then started to sob softly.

Strange had wept for some of his fallen comrades in Portugal and for his apparently dead wife. He had wept frequently during his madness, often without knowing why. Norrell, however, had witnessed none of that. Apart from some rare, quiet tears of joy, he had never seen his lover weep. He was taken aback, feeling upset and uncertain how to react. Soon, however, he leaned forward and held Strange. He had been so frightened at losing Strange that it had not entirely occurred to him how terrified and lonely his lover had been while in the Fairy’s castle. The realization brought home to him in a way that nothing ever had before just how much Strange loved and needed him. His own eyes became misty as he held the other magician and waited for his tears to cease.

Finally Strange sat up and smiled at him, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his tears and blow his nose. He gave Norrell a brief kiss. “Well, I am back with you in our Darkness. Let us learn whether we are once again magically tethered together.”

In the past the two had never felt the slightly nauseous sensation of being jerked back to each other’s sides when they were inside Hurtfew. It seemed to require distances they could only reach when outside in the park. Hence they walked out to the front door and went onto the front stairway, prepared to walk in opposite directions. Each carried a large lamp so that he could keep track of the other’s progress from a distance, in case the magical tether did not bring them back together.

Before they parted, Strange remarked. “I must say, it would be more convenient if that tether no longer were in force.” He noticed immediately that Norrell was trying not to reveal that he was made somewhat nervous by this statement. He said reassuringly, “Gilbert, you know perfectly well that our love is a far greater force in keeping us together than is that accidental condition forced upon us by the Fairy’s curse. That is—or perhaps was—just an artificial tether.”

Norrell nodded sadly. “Yes, it’s just … I rather thought it was nice having both the love and the magical tether. I have to admit, it reassured me that …”

Strange looked at him in mock indignation. “Really, Gilbert, I should hate to think that you have stayed so close to me as much because the magic forced you to as because you genuinely love me.”

Norrell’s eyes widened and he shook his head in horror, protesting, “Of course not, Jonathan!”

Strange gathered him in for a hug. “You see? It is just the same with me. I have not stayed with you because the curse forced me to! Why should we fear losing that inconvenient magical bond?”

As they pulled apart, Norrell smiled up at him. “You are quite right. So, let us make the test.”

They set out in opposite directions, Norrell to the left out of the front door and Strange to the right. Eventually each reached their respective edges of the Darkness, and both were sure that by this point they should have suddenly been whisked back together. No such thing happened. They came back to meet at the front door. 

Norrell found that he still had to hide the fact that he was slightly upset by the loss of the magical tether, despite knowing that Strange stayed with him entirely because of love. 

Strange sensed this and grinned. “Really, Gilbert, looked at objectively, the freedom to move further apart may not make much difference to us at this point, but it may during our more venturesome travels in the Darkness.”

Norrell nodded. “Speaking of which, now comes the time to determine if either of us, or both, can leave the Darkness itself.”

Strange nodded and replied, “I do not expect you to exercise your admitted bravery a second time so soon, so I shall make the first attempt to step outside the Darkness.”

Norrell gasped and wrung his hands in distress. “No! Please … I think it would take more bravery for me to watch you leave the Darkness without me than it would to go myself. What if … what if you never came back?”

Strange stared at him in frustration. “Really, Gilbert, as I said, my first reaction upon being forced to leave the Darkness was to wish desperately to return to it—and you! If somehow I were to leave and not be able to re-enter the Darkness, I am quite sure that I should be just as lonely outside it as you would be within. But let’s be sensible about this. I perforce left the Darkness once, and when you rescued me from Lady Turn-of-Tide, I was able without difficulty to return here with you.”

Norrell nodded unhappily. “I suppose so. But just the same … allow me to be the first to try.”

Strange smiled sympathetically. “All right, Gilbert. If you manage it, you will see daylight again for the first time in years—and in happier circumstances than I did.”

He stood by the door, watching Norrell’s little figure trudging toward the archway, his lamp bobbing slightly in the gloom even after Strange lost sight of his dim outline. He sat down on the steps before the door and waited.

More time passed than he expected, and he became nervous, thinking that for some reason they had not anticipated Norrell might be trapped outside the Darkness. For perhaps the first time, he fully understood how Norrell felt at even the most unlikely prospect of a separation between them. The panic, the realization of how much they meant to each other. Of course, he himself had been devastated by being away from Norrell in the Lady’s castle, but that was different, a combination of terror at the abduction and imprisonment, revulsion at the Lady’s plans for him, and a desperation to escape. Here he feared facing simply the loss of his lover.

He stood up and peered into the gloom, searching for a sight of the other magician. As none appeared, he began to pace back and forth across the broad top step. He sought to calm down. He reassured himself that it made little or no sense that Norrell would be unable to enter the Darkness. It occurred to him that even Norrell, little though he had seemed to care for the beauties of nature, might be quite awestruck upon seeing the surrounding landscape in daylight for the first time in years. He strove to be patient and not imagine horrible fancies of what might have happened to his lover.

At last he spotted the tiny glow of Norrell’s lamp in the distance, and eventually the man himself rejoined him. He was smiling.

“Oh, Jonathan, I had quite forgotten how beautiful the world outside is! The sun is still low in the Eastern sky, and the woods and the low mountains look so lovely! I have never seen Kassel in the daytime, of course, and it looks quite a charming town. I could see the Grimms’ library, since we chose to place Hurtfew not far from it. What a wonderful thing, to be able to see it thus! You are right. Being able to leave the Darkness, if only occasionally, would greatly enhance our future travels! And, to be sure, our lives in general.”

“Undoubtedly! This is marvelous, Gilbert! Well, if you can step outside the Darkness and return, surely I can, having done so once already. But just to make sure …”

Strange ran lightly along the front path to the archway, stepped outside, saw the scene that Norrell had described, and grinned as he hurried back to Norrell.

“Now,” he said, “the crucial question is whether we can both leave the Darkness. That would seem logical and yet, surely there is a reason why the Raven King has left us here. Would he entirely free us simply because a capricious lady Fairy was attracted to me?”

Norrell nodded. “There is only one way to find out.” He looked quite nervous, since for so long the Darkness had seemed to depend on their both being within it. Going outside it might change their lives forever. Yet he took Strange’s hand without any prevarication. They walked back to the archway, through it and beyond. As they continued to walk, the area around them remained as dark as they were accustomed to seeing it. They glanced at each other and then went on a little further. Soon it became apparent that the Darkness was following them, as usual.

They stopped and looked around. Without needing to speak and with one accord, still holding hands, they walked back and went directly to the library.

Davey was kneeling on the hearth, a bucket of ashes beside him, just finishing lighting the fire for the day. Lucas was at his small desk in the corner—the one previously occupied by Childermass in his office as Norrell’s man of business.

Lucas stood up. “Mr Norrell, Mr Strange, have you been enjoying a walk in the park before settling in to work?”

Strange rubbed his cold hands together. “Yes, we have been walking about in the park and beyond. As you can imagine, we were not strolling about simply for pleasure, but to see what effects the Fairy’s abduction have had upon the circumstances of Mr Norrell’s and my lives here in the Darkness. There have been some significant changes.”

Lucas moved forward to join the magicians near the fire as Davey went out with the bucket of ashes. He looked at them inquiringly.

Strange went on, “Mr Norrell and I are no longer tethered together magically so that we cannot separate from each other beyond a certain distance. More importantly, apparently one of us at a time will henceforth be able to leave the Darkness. The two of us, however, cannot leave at the same time. We believe that the Darkness is now anchored to one or the other of us. If one departs, fine, but if the other tries to do so as well, the Darkness will follow him.”

Lucas nodded, looking rather puzzled as to what this change might imply.

Norrell explained further, “We are actually quite pleased with this development. We now have more flexibility of movement, to be sure. But we are still essentially trapped within the Darkness, since of course neither of us wishes to leave the other. Moreover, our belief that the Darkness is the source of our power and the means by which we may explore distant lands means that we would dread to lose it.”

“I understand, sir. We have all come to depend on the Darkness and to feel that it is a sort of home. Of course, up to now, the rest of us have had the option to come and go from it. It is most gratifying to learn that the two of you will be able to enjoy the daylight outside as well, if only one at a time.”

Over breakfast, Strange told Norrell what Lucas had said to him about their needing to create greater protections for the servants, beyond what they planned to devise to protect Hurtfew and themselves.

“Of course! When I was about to leave to accomplish your rescue, Lucas pointed out the dangers to them if we were somehow to be separated from them, by death or other misadventure, and I realized that we had not made provisions for that happening. Not to mention what would happen to our library if that were to occur.”

The two spent the rest of the day imagining what sorts of dangers might threaten them and the servants. By late afternoon, the central table and both of their desks were crowded with stacks of books that contained spells or descriptions of spells that might be helpful in their work. Strange in particular was keen to create the portal for the escape of the servants, and Norrell agreed that he might concentrate on that, while Norrell would search for effective spells for sealing off the Darkness from Fairy invasion.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Over dinner the two magicians told each other what progress they had made and expressed their delight at being back together, working on magic and with a clear-cut goal to pursue. They also exchanged glances that spoke of their mutual anticipation of pleasure to be exchanged later that evening.

After a few hours in which the two further pursued their research, they retired to bed.

At once Strange pulled Norrell closer and pressed his lips against his lover’s, quickly seeking to deepen the kiss. To his surprise, Norrell resisted him. Strange pulled back and frowned at him in puzzlement. 

Norrell looked into Strange’s eyes and shook his head. "I don't want to," he said firmly.

This was an unheard-of thing for Norrell to say at such a moment, unless he was feeling unwell. Now, when they had been parted against their will for some time, it seemed downright unbelievable. Strange chuckled and said, "Oh, come now! Is this some sort of attempt to teaze me, Gilbert? Surely you do want to."

Norrell continued to look anxious, however, and he replied. “The thought of feeling so _lovely_ is tempting, but I know that afterward I would fall asleep quite deeply, as usual. As soon as I climbed into this bed tonight, the memory of waking up here to find you missing came to me. If we refrain from our usual intimacies, I could sleep shallowly and be alert and know with assurance that you would still be there when I awoke. That way I can keep you safely with me forever."

Strange sighed and wondered whether it was worrisome that Norrell's more far-fetched motives were beginning to make sense to him by now. Surely, though, this uncharacteristic abstemiousness was only a product of his recent, quite reasonable fright during the separation from his lover.

“Gilbert, I know this whole episode has been terrifying for both of us. I cannot possibly convey to you how miserable I was when I believed that I might never see you again—or not for many years. I suppose I need not try, since you must have been feeling as frightened and lonely as I.”

Norrell clenched his teeth. “In a way, but at least I did not have to deal with being in such a horrible situation—that castle and Lady Turn-of-Tide. She positively made my flesh crawl. I can’t imagine how you were able to endure being there.”

“Well, I had no choice. At least she was better than the Gentleman. She was kind to me, by her own lights. She made sure I was comfortable and entertained and had food I could eat. Still, she was completely self-centered and could not conceive that I was miserable there and longed to return to you. She hated you for various reasons that I never quite understood, and she could not imagine that I genuinely love you. Nevertheless, once she was backed into dealing with you, she was quite reasonable despite her anger.

Norrell looked at him sourly. “Yes, I must admit that, given the choice, I would rather deal with her than the Gentleman. Still …”

“Exactly. But at any rate, we have already taken some steps to to protect ourselves more effectively and make ourselves feel more secure. Naturally, having never had the slightest notion that a Fairy would snatch me, I thought about this notion a great deal during my captivity. We have probably become too complacent, assuming that John Uskglass is somehow watching over us and protecting us. Surely, though, he does not pay quite such close attention to our welfare at every moment. He no doubt expects us to fend for ourselves in most situations. Why would he chuze two magicians who turn to him when any thing goes wrong?

“Of course, we know that there is no absolute way or preventing Fairy abductions from happening, but we could make ourselves far safer and be more alert. Between the two of us, we might even devise some protections hitherto unknown. It will be hard and complicated work, but I think ultimately our procedures will make us much safer.”

Norrell nodded again, though he did not seem to find this plan entirely reassuring. “During the day it is easy to be confident about such things, but at night, in bed … that was when it happened, and I didn’t even notice.”

Strange sighed. “I suppose so, but remember, Gilbert, you rescued me! It was a remarkable feat of bravery that should reassure you mightily about your own abilities. You should feel less fearful now than you did before, and yet at the moment you seem more so.”

Norrell slid further away on the bed. He dropped his eyes and said, “Jonathan, it was not bravery. You are being far too kind in your assessment of me. From the moment I set out to find you to our arrival back here, I was terrified, probably more terrified than I have ever been before! Even more so than when I succeeded in summoning the Fairy who resurrected Lady Pole for me.”

Strange shook his head firmly. “If someone is brave, it doesn’t mean he’s not terrified. Well, I suppose there are rare people who are never afraid of anything and just forge ahead, but that does not necessarily imply that they are brave. They just don’t recognize the danger—which is actually quite foolish. I suspect that a lot of people who act in that fashion end up failing miserably. No, it is the person who recognizes the danger and goes ahead and does what he must despite his terror who exhibits true bravery. That’s what you did. What’s more, it means that, if necessary, you would presumably be able to act bravely again.”

During this conversation Strange had not laid a hand on Norrell to sooth or arouse him, because in such discussions Norrell liked to be respected rather than swayed carnally. But Strange looked at him intensely. 

Looking deep into a companion's eyes was not a habit that came easily to Norrell, but it had the virtue of reminding him that in his life in the Darkness he had Strange to consider as well. Now he raised his head and returned Strange’s look. And Strange was so beautiful that staring into his eyes was extraordinarily wonderful—especially when those eyes were full, as they were now, of love and admiration and concern and desire.

Norrell gulped. “Do you really think so?”

Strange nodded emphatically. “Yes, you were incredibly brave! I should say, the more terrified you felt, the braver your actions were. If they hadn’t been, I wouldn’t be here right now. I might have found a way to escape eventually, but the Lady certainly was very careful to prevent that. You saved me.”

Norrell still appeared to be somewhat dubious. “But you are so brave yourself, it is easy for you to dismiss how fearful I am and have always been.”

Strange sighed in frustration. “Truly, Gilbert, any bravery I have ever displayed has usually come in the face of great fear. Well, not catching and disposing of mice for you. I do not fear mice in the slightest. But the war—that was very different. I will admit that then I performed some actions, magical and ordinary, that might be considered very brave. In a few cases, I must say, I was probably drunk and hence rather unaware of the danger! Yet in most instances I, too, was utterly terrified. Especially during the Battle of Waterloo, I kept finding myself in situations where I thought I was about to die. There was no way, in the middle of the battlefield, to reach safety, and so I did what I needed to do in order to escape. At other moments, I saw officers or soldiers, some of whom were my friends, in danger. I could not leave them to be slaughtered without attempting to help them, even if it meant putting myself at severe risk in the process. I’m happy to say that I was able to save all but a few of them. But I never did so through some blithe feeling that I was safe. So, my wonderful Gilbert, I may be braver than you in some circumstances, but what you have just done puts you not far behind me, I assure you.” 

Norrell looked away, scanning the counterpane and trying to absorb all this. He glanced back at Strange with an uncertain little smile. “It’s true. I … I did save you.”

Strange grinned at him and simply nodded.

Norrell began to breathe more deeply. He finally said in a positively excited tone, “I saved you, Jonathan! I really did!” He slipped out of the bed and paced back and forth in a short path before pausing and looking back at Strange rather giddily. “I did! I did really save you!”

Strange nodded and stretched his arm out toward Norrell. “You certainly did. Now come back to bed, or you will catch a chill.”

Gripping his hand, Norrell climbed back into the bed and lay down beside him, pulling the bedclothes over them both. He hesitated and said more softly, “I’m not sure I like being brave, but I trust what you say, so I guess I am. At least, I apparently can be, in extreme circumstances. Most notably, in cases where you are in danger.”

He leaned against Strange and gave him a kiss fervent enough to make it clear that he was not envisioning extreme abstinence, though he still felt somewhat leery of engaging in the sort of deeply satisfying, exhausting intimacy that had made him sleep so delightfully and profoundly through many nights spent beside Strange. The sort of sleep that had led him to miss the horrifying moment when the Fairy stole his Jonathan away.

Strange returned his kiss with enthusiasm. When he had freed his mouth, he chuckled. “I assure you, I’m not suggesting that I want to you act bravely very often. As seldom as possible, in fact, for naturally I don’t want either of us to be in danger. My point is simply that you have proven yourself. Frankly, if anyone were to steal you away in such a fashion, I hope that I would be able to act as bravely as you have and rescue you.”

Norrell looked up at him adoringly with a chuckle. “Who would want to steal me away?”

“I think a particularly astute Fairy would see your wonderful qualities. Who knows, if your triumph over Lady Turn-of-Tide spreads as gossip among her Fairy friends, you might come to be considered quite the catch!”

Norrell looked at him in horror. “Do you think so? Or are you … surely you are teazing me, Jonathan!”

“Of course I am. Oh, I do think you might be intriguing to some Fairies, but we shall ring ourselves round with so many spells that we shall confound them all!”

He opened his arms. Norrell sank into his embrace with a happy moan. He cuddled up against Strange, and the two lay in each other’s arms for several minutes.

Norrell remained quite awake and affectionate, but he did not display his usual eagerness for Jonathan to prepare him and fuck him. 

Strange, who was quite aroused by now, shifted impatiently and sat up. “Gilbert, are you still planning to avoid our usual lovemaking so that you can sleep lightly and guard me from abduction?”

Norrell nodded.

Strange sighed. “Let’s agree to do it this way. I promise not to get out of bed before you do, even if you sleep on for hours after I awaken. Well, I would do so to use the chamber pot in your bathroom, but I shan’t go alone to my own room. I shall just wait here, indulging in the delightful occupation of watching you sleep. And no, I am not teazing you. I do enjoy watching you sleep. You feel so sweet in my arms at such times, and I think about our times together and how lucky I am to have you. Even more so, now.”

“You need not do anything so extreme. Surely hours of such observation would eventually pall. Just wake me if I sleep too long.”

Strange stared at him with wide eyes, feigning fear. “Oh, no, I have experienced what you are like if you are woken before you want to be. Quite grumpy!”

Norrell stared back and shrugged. “Then you’ll just have to be as brave as I am.”

Strange frowned at him in genuine surprise. “Gilbert, are you teazing me? If so, I am, as always in these rare cases, delighted.”

“Maybe. Um, was I?”

“Well, I suppose it depends on your intent. If you meant to teaze me, then you were teazing me. If you weren’t, then—I should say not!”

Norrell thought briefly. “I was intending to teaze you.”

Strange burst into laughter, and Norrell immediately joined him.

“All right, if you oversleep and I wish to rise, I shall wake you and risk having to deal with a grumpy Gilbert Norrell. But if I do so, according to your own teazing, you will have to admit that I was brave. Agreed?”

Norrell smiled affectionately. “Agreed.”

“Good! Now, does that mean that we can celebrate our reunion in a wonderfully intense, intimate fashion?”

Norrell hesitated.

“I never thought I would have to say this to you in bed, but be brave, Gilbert!”

Norrell smiled, somewhat sheepishly. “Oh, all right.”

“Ah, at last!”

Strange pulled Norrell up onto himself until the man was stretched along his naked torso. They kissed slowly, opening their mouths to each other until Norrell was humming faintly with pleasure. Strange could feel his lover’s hard cock pressing against his stomach. 

Pushing his upper body away from Strange’s, Norrell surveyed his naked chest and touched one nipple with a single finger. The little nub rose and hardened, and Norrell rolled and tickled it until Strange whimpered.

Norrell blissfully sucked on the nipple until he sensed that Strange was becoming impatient for more. 

“Gilbert, what would you like?”

“For you to fuck me, of course. It has been three days!”

“Yes, quite a long time.” Strange thought for a moment. “As long as you’re up there … Do you remember how we did it that night about two weeks before that wretched Fairy stole me away? We tried something new. As I recall, you quite enjoyed it.”

“Oh! With me on top and you in me? Yes, that was _very_ nice. I could see you so clearly and watch your face and … I could move on you so that you rubbed me in exactly the right way. Not that you don’t rub me in the right way when you’re on top, of course, but it was somehow different, and I—ˮ

“Gilbert.”

“Yes?”

“I am impatient to begin. Do not forget what Mr Bulkeley so correctly wrote: ‘Actions are more significant than words.’ If you want to proceed, you must remove your night breeches. In the meantime, I shall …”

As Norrell struggled out of his breeches, Strange reached over and brought the accustomed jar of salve and some kerchiefs out of the drawer of the night stand. He lay back down, and Norrell straddled his hips, pulling up his night shirt. Strange plucked off his night cap as well and tossed it onto the side table.

“Now,” he said with a grin, “This time try lying forward on me, quite high up. That way I think I can reach to prepare you from the back rather than the front—which as you doubtless recall, did not work at all well.”

Norrell slid up slightly to straddle his stomach and lean forward to press against Strange, licking his ears and running his fingers through his hair as Strange dipped two fingers into the salve and, spreading Norrell’s cleft open with one hand, began to tickle and rub the little puckered entrance with the other. Norrell squeaked, and Strange jerked his head away with a chuckle.

“Not right in my ear, please.”

Norrell was starting to pant. “I beg your pardon. I … I shall move elsewhere.” He shifted down slightly to lick and kiss Strange’s neck, squirming slightly against him as Strange’s fingers began to probe inside him, circling and stretching. 

As he worked to relax the tight ring, Strange turned his head and offered his open mouth with his tongue slightly extended. Eagerly Norrell moved to meet him, and their tongues flicked and swirled lasciviously around each other, their lips barely brushing. They continued as Strange patiently worked to loosen Norrell’s hole. He knew that with Norrell pushing himself down onto the stiff member, the man would need to be as relaxed as possible. Finally his fingers nudged against the little gland at the front of the passage, and Norrell squeaked again and began rhythmically pressing his needy cock against Strange’s abdomen.

Finally Strange deemed that Norrell was fully prepared, and he withdrew his fingers and grasped his lover’s hips, raising them slightly. Norrell supported himself on his hands, pressed against Strange’s chest. 

“Help me open you,” Strange said, grasping one of Norrell’s buttocks and pulling it to the side while holding his own rampant cock in the other and positioning it at Norrell’s opening. Norrell reached back and clutched the other buttock, pulling it in the opposite direction. He pressed back against the head of Strange’s cock, and Strange pushed until the head was inside.

Norrell closed his eyes and let out a long, slow sigh. His eyes opened and looked into Strange’s as he moved further back, taking in part of the shaft and then beginning to move up and down on it. Strange thrust gently into him but let Norrell set the pace and depth of penetration.

Norrell eased very gradually down until he stiffened and threw back his head as the tip of Strange’s member pressed into the sensitive spot that sent fire through his loins. “Oh, God, fuck me, Jonathan!” he begged, as he began to ride the cock harder. 

“Gilbert!” Strange murmured, continuing to thrust only slightly.

Norrell’s face was twisted with need, and he shifted his knees further apart, groaning loudly as Strange’s member was forced harder into him. He began to move faster, and his tight channel pulled at the shaft within him until Jonathan felt his climax gathering and about to crash over him.

“Gilbert, I’m … so close … so close!” He reached down and seized Norrell’s erection, pumping it as he lost control and rolled his head back into the pillow, effortlessly falling over into bliss. As his climax began, he felt something warm touch his cheek and realized that Norrell had come so hard that the first spurt of seed had reached his face. “Good Lord!” Strange muttered through clenched teeth as he continued to thrust upward in short, fast jabs as the last fillips of his ecstasy diminished and faded away. Norrell whimpered with each wave of pleasure, clamping his passage around Jonathan and rocking his hips slightly to prolong his ecstasy as long as possible. His decreasing spurts fell upon Strange’s chest and abdomen and finally dribbled down over his clenched fist. At last Norrell stopped, panting, his eyes still closed.

They remained still for nearly a minute before Norrell opened his eyes and looked down at the other magician with a contented little smile. Strange reached for the cloth on the side table and carefully wiped them both as Norrell slowly raised himself and Strange’s shrinking member popped out of him. With another cloth he dabbed at their sweat-slicked skin.

Norrell stretched out on top of Strange, lazily kissing him. Now that their passion was fulfilled and Norrell was no longer partially supporting himself on his knees, Strange found having the other magician’s full weight on him slightly uncomfortable, small though Norrell was. He would not have mentioned it for the world, however, and he hugged him tightly for a moment before allowing his arms to drape loosely over the slight body.

“So, you obviously enjoyed that, but how does it compare with being on your back? Better? The same?”

Norrell sighed contentedly as he thought for a moment. “Not better, exactly, but … oh, very pleasant. I would not at all mind doing it this way now and again. Still, I love having you above me and watching you make me feel so good. Beautiful and kind and gentle.”

“Gentle? Not toward the end, I would think.”

“No, of course it becomes livelier after that, but by then I usually can’t keep my eyes open to watch you anyway. Nor could I just now, after a certain point.” 

They were silent for a time as Strange stroked Norrell’s back and bottom with his fingertips. Eventually Norrell raised his head and looked into his lover’s eyes. 

“You make me so very happy, Jonathan. Happier than I believed any one could ever be, let alone me.”

Strange looked up at him with a slightly quivery smile. “I am glad, Gilbert, so glad. You do the same for me, you know. I did not realize just how much until I was facing the prospect of never seeing you again. I shall never forget that feeling and never fail to appreciate how extremely happy you make me.” 

Norrell smiled and watched his face as Strange became drowsy and his eyelids drooped. Eventually he ran his fingers through Strange’s curls. “Jonathan,” he breathed softly.

Strange’s eyes opened fully, and he said, “I beg your pardon?”

“Just … saying your name.”

Strange woke up more thoroughly and grinned. “Back in the days when I first knew you, I noticed that everyone in London seemed to think that you were so dull, so dry, so tedious, so cold. They would never be able to imagine you capable of saying a lover’s name with such affection and delight. At first I no doubt thought the same. But now I know better. I’m thrilled to have discovered that Gilbert Norrell.”

Norrell blinked down at him briefly. “I do not think that you discovered him. You invented him. Or conjured him. Or woke him up. Or something.”

Strange’s grin widened. “Oh, did I? Well, in that case, I think I quite deserve the joy of having him all to myself. I would say, ‘Forsooth, I should like to see any beautiful Fairy try to come between us!’ But I have now seen that, and it was not a pretty sight. At any rate, the attempt failed, so my point is proven.”

Norrell stared at him, his own eyelids beginning to droop, and nodded. He laid his head down again on Strange’s chest.

Strange shifted slightly under him. “Oh, no you don’t! You may be little, but you’re still too heavy to sleep atop me. Off you go!”

He rolled slightly, so that Norrell thumped softly down onto the mattress and they were lying on their sides facing each other.

Norrell chuckled, charmed as always at how effortlessly amusing Jonathan was. They shared a brief kiss.

“Now, Gilbert, let us get a good night’s sleep and try to awaken at roughly the same time. I do not want my rescuer to be grumpy so soon after his victory.”

“I cannot imagine being grumpy with you,” Norrell whispered, settling down into Strange’s arms. The two drifted into a sleep undisturbed by any Fairy incursions.


	5. The Lure of Egypt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange and Norrell discuss when they might set out on their adventures in the Darkness and where they might go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the information about ancient Egypt in this chapter is authentic and reflects what an educated gentleman like Norrell could have learned about it as of 1820. The publications that he refers to are all real. The remains of a temple to Egyptian gods was actually discovered in York in 1770, when Norrell was (by my head-canon and the premises of the Jonathan Strange ♥ Mr Norrell universe) five years old. Samuel Pegge’s lecture that Norrell recalls attending occurred and was published as described. The only error here is Norrell’s remark that the Rosetta Stone is made of basalt, and that mistake is neither his nor my fault. The British Museum identified the Stone’s material as basalt until 1999, when a cleaning revealed that it is in fact made of granodiorite.
> 
> I do not know whether by 1820 any actual scholars had made the connection between the Egyptian god Apis and the temple in York devoted to Serapis. The latter was a god invented by the Greek rulers of Egypt based on the Apis bull. The Romans took up the worship of Serapis and built the temple to him in York. Norrell makes that connection here, and I believe it would have been possible for someone to do so.

Over the next few days the two magicians took turns in going for short walks outside the Darkness. One of them would depart and return, and the other would do the same immediately after. That way they could share their observations on the same sorts of events and weather. It was not as satisfactory as being able to walk together, but it was delightful nonetheless. Their slight lingering fear that something dire might result from such ventures out of their safe domain slowly faded.

Finally Norrell was confident enough to consider going outside for a longer stretch of time and decided that he would visit the Brothers Grimm at their library. He had not been there in nearly two weeks, since in the past he had of necessity gone with Strange, moving the Darkness to the library. Now he could simply walk a short distance, a half mile or so, in daylight, and reach his destination.

Dressed in his second-best clothes, he went to the Hurtfew library to say good-bye to Strange. The other magician got up from his desk and came over to him, looking slightly worried. 

Norrell himself was feeling nervous at the prospect of walking so far away from the Darkness by himself, but he put on a smile. “So, what do you plan to do while I’m gone?”

“Oh, I intend to fret fairly frequently, and then to assure myself that nothing could go wrong and you will be back as expected. Apart from that, I shall, um, do something that doesn’t require a great deal of concentration. It occurs to me that I could usefully copy my messy notes on the various anti-Fairy-abduction spells we have concocted into neater, more complete form for the S-G notebook.”

He glanced at the sheets in his hand and frowned. “If I can read them, that is. ‘Messy’ hardly begins to describe them.”

“Oh, dear, Jonathan!”

“Don’t worry! I am just teazing,” Strange replied, adding under his breath, “mostly.”

Norrell nodded, with a more genuine smile. “Ah, splendid! Those will make valuable entries for our supplementary volume to Sutton-Grove.”

Strange did not look particularly enthusiastic, but he nodded. Cheering up, he remarked, “At least it is very pleasant that his initials match with our own so neatly. The “S-G notebook might as well stand for ‘Strange’ and ‘Gilbert.’”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Three hours later Strange was sitting reading a book that Norrell had finally allowed him to look inside for the first time. Every now and then his eyebrows would flick upward as he read a passage. At one point he muttered, “Well, Gilbert, I can understand why you didn’t want me to see THAT one.” At another he found a note on a slip of paper inserted between two pages: “For Mr Strange after eight (?) years of study.” He chuckled and thought for a few minutes. Adding together his time formally studying with Norrell before their falling-out, a bit under two and a half years, and their three years spent together in the Darkness—which certainly could be counted as continued study for both of them—he had been learning from the older magician for considerably less than eight years. Yet Norrell had quite explicitly given him permission to see this volume. He must have been learning faster than Norrell had expected, or perhaps Norrell had just come to trust him far more than he had whenever he wrote that note. Either way, finding such a thing was quite encouraging. He slid the note up so that it was sticking prominently out of the top of the book, intending to show it to Norrell. He went on reading.

Strange’s neatly rewritten copies, abandoned halfway through, lay by his elbow on the table.

A short time later the door opened, and Norrell entered. His cheeks were pink, and Strange initially wondered whether the walk had been too strenuous for him. Then it occurred to him that Norrell had acquired a slight sun-burn during his walks to and from the library. He leaped up and went to greet his lover.

Norrell was carrying a book, which he set down on a table near the door before he was swept up into an enthusiastic hug by Strange, one that lifted him up off his feet for a moment. Once he was standing again, albeit on his tiptoes, the two kissed in a leisurely fashion. 

After they drew apart, they looked inquiringly into each other’s eyes, but Strange said, “Let us put off our intimacies a little. You look a bit tired from your walk, and I am interested to hear what you learned during your visit.” He grinned. “Oh, and I have a little something to show you.”

Norrell glanced at the table where the notes Strange had been copying and the book he had been reading lay beside each other.

“Not a completed set of notes, I see. You are so easily distracted, Jonathan,” he replied, but with an indulgent and loving smile.

“Oh, um, yes, well, I shall finish the copying, I assure you. But I was tempted to look into the book you recommended to me this morning, just to get a sense of what it is about. I ended, as usual, by being fascinated by it and loosing track of time. Look what I found in it!” He opened the book to the pages between which he had found the note and held it out with a chuckle.

Norrell frowned curiously and took it, chuckling in turn as he read it. “I wonder when I wrote that. It must have been when you were away at the war and I made up the second list of types of magic that I wished you to learn and books that you were to read after your return. Yes, I remember that I acquired that book during your absence and thought that someday I would show it to you.”

“I hope you will not take it back and hide it away, Gilbert. After all, I have not been studying with you for anything close to eight years.”

Norrell, who had been examining the book, looked up into his eyes. “Now, Jonathan, I know that you are teazing me. Of course, I have no intention of making you delay reading it. Eight years was simply an estimate, as you can see from the question mark.”

“Ah, but perhaps you were worrying that it was too short a time.”

“Even if that was true then, and that may well have been my opinion, I would not wish to hide it from you now. After all, this note was written before my offer to give you the key to this library so that you could read anything in it that you wished. Of course, I still make recommendations about what would be most useful for you to read next, as in this case, but I would not forbid you to read other volumes, especially if they are necessary to your current research.”

He reached up and stroked Strange’s cheek affectionately. “Besides, your experiences, especially with our Fairy, have taught you some degree of caution.”

Strange caught his hand and kissed his palm. Norrell picked up the book he had brought in, and the two sat on the sopha with it on their laps.

Norrell remarked, “Jacob and Wilhelm showed me a few new books that had arrived since my previous visit. This was the only one that appeared to be of real interest to us, so they kindly let me borrow it. I shall begin reading it immediately, and if it proves of use, you might wish to apply the translation spell and read it yourself.”

“Excellent! That translation spell was the best present you have ever given me—except yourself, I mean,” he hastened to add.

“Thank you. And of course, you are the best present—”

Strange brushed his lips against Norrell’s to silence him. “I know, Gilbert. You have said so before, and I always believe you.”

Norrell looked slightly dismayed. “Do I say it so often? Often enough to be tiresome?”

“Only at Christmas and your birthday and if the subject of presents comes up at other times. But no, it is not tiresome. It is delightful.” He gave Norrell a more lingering kiss, to prove it.

The two separated then, Norrell to sit on the sopha and read the book the Grimm Brothers had lent him, and Strange to return reluctantly to his copying of his notes.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

That evening they sat together before the fire as usual, reading their respective books. Strange’s thoughts wandered, however, and eventually he marked his place and closed his book. Norrell looked at him inquiringly.

“I don’t think it can be time for bed yet, Jonathan. Perhaps you wish to retire a trifle early for some purpose or other?”

“Not quite this early, thank you. Gilbert, I have been thinking about something I have long meant to ask you.”

Norrell carefully closed his own book. “Yes, Jonathan?”

“For quite some time now we have not spoken of our great plans for traveling about the world and learning exotic forms of magic. I was reminded of it by Lady Turn-of-Tide. I insisted to her that John Uskglass had deliberately placed you and me together in this Darkness so that we might accomplish, well, projects for him. It has been three years now. Indeed, in a few days we will celebrate the anniversary of that momentous night. Our time in Italy and more recently in Germany has been delightful. Yet she ridiculed my claims about the Raven King and said that we were merely sitting here comfortably, doing our research and … um, enjoying each other’s company. I have to admit, I had been thinking along those lines myself. Have you considered at all when we might finally move on?”

Norrell sighed. “From time to time it does occur to me that eventually we must do so if we are to accomplish anything, either for our own benefit or for that of others. And, as you say, to fulfill whatever John Uskglass might wish of us. I admit the notion that we apparently have extended lifetimes in which to accomplish such deeds creates little impetus for us to actually launch out into the unknown, and that I have very much enjoyed what we have been doing since we removed Hurtfew from Yorkshire.

“Still, we did agree that we would need to learn a great deal more before making such a start. Recently we have been forced to discover much about the magic that might allow us to protect ourselves from abduction or other mischief practiced against us by Fairies. I feel quite confident that we are safer now then we were, though there is no absolute assurance that we are completely immune to such tricks.” 

“True. That is very important and definitely worth lingering over. Still, I am not suggesting that we leave immediately. I just thought we might discuss when we might eventually do so.”

“I must admit, too, that I am still a trifle afraid of the unknown. Even with you at my side, setting out to face unforeseeable dangers seems a frightening prospect.”

“Yes, I can imagine—though your recent rescue of me has greatly reassured me about your underlying bravery, my dearest Gilbert.”

“You are very kind, but as I said, I do not like the idea of being brave except on very rare occasions.”

“Still, you must summon up some courage eventually or we shall never get anywhere with our plans.”

“Oh, I know you are right. The question also arises, however, as to what John Uskglass has in mind for us. Where should we go, of all the myriad places in this world and others? What are we to do? In the case of Our Fairy, the abductions of Lady Pole and Mrs Strange were quite obvious dilemmas that we needed to deal with—though they were obviously part of his larger goal to rid the world of the Gentleman. I had rather hoped that John Uskglass would make any such situation known to us. Yet for all we can tell, he seems quite content to ignore us, to let us go about our research and preparations at our leisure. Do you have any suggestions about where we ought to go?”

Strange thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I am afraid not. You had mentioned being interested in seeing Iceland as a result of reading the Grimms’ translations of the sagas and discussing those with them. Still, that seems more like a holiday than a serious adventure.”

He hesitated for a while before resuming, “It has occurred to me that the frightening incident with Lady Turn-of-Tide might in some sense be a signal to us. We now know that we can go face to face with a Fairy and, if not exactly triumph, at least survive and stay free and together.”

Norrell looked at him doubtfully. “Maybe so, but I don’t imagine she was one of the more powerful Fairies.”

Strange sighed and ignored him. He went on, “And that was you acting on your own, with little help from me. That is most reassuring. Moreover, we are no longer tethered together and can even leave the Darkness in a limited way. Are these developments hints to us that we are ready to launch our travels, or nearly so?”

“You may well be right. They are quite momentous. Even so, I wish we would receive some sort of a sign, even a small one, to indicate where we should go. I simply …” He trailed off and sat thinking with a small frown. Finally he went on. “Perhaps a small sign of sorts has been vouchsafed to me.”

Strange sat up straighter and stared at him. “What sort of a sign?”

“Well, not exactly a sign, but a persistent interest, almost a fascination … I have told you about my hope that Egyptian hieroglyphs might be translated, so that the ancient magic of that land might become known to us.”

“Yes, you mentioned recently that you thought some progress is being made.”

“Indeed, though quite limited progress, I fear. Mr Thomas Young published his findings in a supplement to the ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANICA just last year. He has read the name “Ptolemy” in the hieroglyphic portion of the Rosetta Stone and has also determined that the hieroglyphs are not an alphabet. Still, that leaves much to be done. I have some hope that M Champollion will go further.

“The Rosetta Stone. I vaguely recall hearing about that. It was some sort of war booty from the French and has texts in hieroglyphs and some other form of writing.”

“Yes, two others, ancient Greek and another form of ancient Egyptian writing called demotic. The French found a large basalt stela of the Ptolemaic era reused in a building in Rosetta. It was taken to Cairo, where copies were made and sent to various scholars in Europe to aid them in deciphering the hieroglyphs. The English seized the Stone, along with a collection of other ancient artifacts, and it went on display in the British Museum in 1802. One of the first things I did upon arriving in London was to go and see it. It is a remarkable object.

“What I have not told you is that I have a more general curiosity about the most intriguing topic of ancient Egypt. So little is known concerning it, and yet everything I have been able to learn about its ruins and antiquities fires my imagination.”

“Really? I had no idea that the subject in general had been of such enormous interest to you.”

“No, I have not mentioned it to you. I thought if the translation of the hieroglyphs ever became a reality, I might bring up the possibility of our visiting there. Until that happens I fear there is little to be learned of the ancient magic practiced in Egypt.”

“But you have no books on the subject,” Strange said, glancing around at the crowded shelves surrounding them. “Or perhaps there are no books.”

“Oh, there are some. A number of bold explorers have traveled through the country and written accounts of what they saw, in some cases with drawings. I have quite a good collection. Given that there are so many rooms in Hurtfew not being used, after my return from London I decided to set up a second small library devoted entirely to the subject. That decision was dictated in part by the publication of a series of very large volumes that needed special storage, and there was really no place in this library that could accommodate them.”

“Yes, I noticed that you had a separate library that you occasionally work in alone. I never went in, fearing that I would inadvertently break my promise to you not to look into dangerous books. I thought that might be where you kept the ones you wished me not to see.”

“Oh, these are not dangerous,” Norrell replied, laughing. “I do have a closet where I hide the very dangerous books of magic, the ones which even I do not dare read, but that is in yet another room, one which I enter only on those rare occasions when I need to add another volume to that closet. I would be delighted to show you the Egyptian library, if you are interested.”

“Very much so. I should also be curious to learn how this fascination of yours began.”

“I shall tell you now, if you wish. Why don’t you pour us each a glass of madeira-wine, and we can go into the other library to talk.”

Once they had lit the lamps in the Egyptian library and settled comfortably into two chairs, Norrell thought for a moment. “I suppose it started, though I did not realize it at the time, when I was seven years old. My parents had been dead for three years, and I spent little time with my uncle. I knew, however, that he was quite interested in local history, especially stretching back to the time when the Romans occupied Yorkshire. In fact, he collected Roman coins, which were found from time to time on his land. The farmers were instructed to bring coins and pottery lamps and other small artifacts that they found to him, and he paid them a few coins for each. The collection was housed in a specially-made set of shallow drawers with glass tops, which is still in my uncle’s study. I would be happy to show you those as well, if you are interested. I find the ancient Roman history fascinating, though the coins and other objects do not seem particularly impressive to me—certainly not in comparison with Egyptian objects.” 

“Of course numismatics, along with heraldry and other studies of that sort, were considered quite respectable sorts of interests for a wealthy man—unlike magic! I suppose my uncle thought to cultivate similar interests in me, for he occasionally took me along to lectures he attended at local societies he belonged to. I found the carriage rides to and from York a trial, as I often felt unwell during them. I also was rather overwhelmed at the crowd of grown-up, serious men attending the lectures, but since I was not expected to speak to them, I tolerated such occasions comparatively well. At least I found some of the lectures intriguing, though I seldom was able to follow them completely.

“At any rate, I was taken to such an event in 1772. April I believe it was, for it was the week after Easter. I always received a new suit to wear to church on Easter Sunday, and I was forced to wear it to the lecture as well. Most uncomfortable!

“On that particular night a learned historian named Mr Samuel Pegge was one of the speakers. His talk was brief but caught my attention more than the longer disquisitions usually did. As happens so often in York and its environs, some men digging for quite a different purpose came upon the foundations of an ancient building made of Roman bricks. This happened at Friar’s-Garden, which is a part of the city atop a hill that rises up near the River Ouse on its south side. Oh, well, you are not familiar with the city. Wait a moment. The lecture was published in 1775, in a journal to which my uncle subscribed.” He searched along a tall shelf and pulled from it a slim volume. He sat down beside Strange, who read the title: Archaeologia. Norrell opened it to the first page.

“Here we are: ‘This part of the foundation was a segment of a circle; the remainder of it being under the adjoining house could not be traced out; there is reason, however, to apprehend, that the whole composed a rotunda.’ As you see, they also discovered an inscribed stone plaque, which was given into the keeping of a member of the society and was shown off that evening. Turn the pages and you can see a drawing of it.”

“Ah! Quite large, three feet long, it says. It is most fortunate that it was not broken.”

“Indeed! It is quite an impressive object. At any rate, there is the inscription in its entirety.”

“ʻDEO SANCTO SERAPI TEMPLVM A SO LE FECIT CL. HIERONYMIANVS LEG.’ And then smaller below, LEG-VI-VICT. Let’s see, ‘temple of the sacred deity Serapis, made by Claudius Hieronymianus.’ An odd name. What’s this ‘leg’ business at the end?”

“Well, as Mr Pegge points out on the third page, in Yorkshire it is common knowledge that the sixth legion was stationed at York. Its nickname was “Victrix,” and Hieryonymianus was its leader, or ‘Legatus.’ Moreover, the emperor Septimius Severus came to Britain in 208 AD and lived here in York until his death in 211. So York was effectively the centre of the Roman empire for about three years. I have always found that quite an amazing fact.”

Strange looked at Norrell curiously. “Very interesting. I have long known that Yorkshire was a centre of Roman activity, but I had no idea how important it was. Still, what does this have to do with Egypt?”

Norrell stood up again and took down a large volume from another shelf. 

“Nothing, as far as I knew at the time. As you will see, though, there may actually be a connection, though it took me a great long time to find it out. I did so through my study of ancient Egypt, which began with a book my uncle owned. Again thinking to encourage my interest in history, when I was about fourteen he allowed my tutor to show me this book. It is an English translation of Frederick Ludwig Norden’s VOYAGE D’EGYPTE ET DE NUBIE, first published in 1755. It is quite wonderful and is considered, I believe, the best of the books published by those travellers and scholars who visited Egypt before the end of the past century. It has wonderful images of hieroglyphic inscriptions, better than any others I have seen in these early books. Moreover, he has a description of immense stone buildings called ‘pyramids.’ Just listen to this remarkable account!”

He opened the book to a place marked with a slip of paper and read: “ʻTheir fabric is of the remotest antiquity, and even more early than the times of the most ancient historians, whose writings have been transmitted to us. That which these authors say of the time of the building of the pyramids, is founded on traditions more fabulous than probable. It is a thing as wonderful as it is certain, that they subsist still to our time, tho’ the epoch of the beginning was lost, even at the time that the first Greek philosophers travelled into Egypt.’” He sighed. “How I wish I could see these pyramids!

“At about the same time, I was studying ancient Greek. I asked my tutor if I might practice by reading the HISTORIES of Herodotus, who I knew had travelled to Egypt and recorded some of what he saw. My tutor was delighted at my enthusiasm and consented. I doubt I could have managed to get through all nine volumes, but fortunately the material on Egypt was in the second one. 

“One thing that struck me as I read was the historian’s description of a cult practiced at ancient Memphis, one of the main cities of the ancient civilization. Of course, ‘Memphis’ was its Greek name. I have no idea what the Egyptians called it. But it was the center of worship for a bull-deity.” He rose and pulled some notes from a drawer. This is my childish translation of the text, which struck me for obvious reasons: ‘The Apis is the calf of a cow which is never afterwards able to have another. The Egyptian belief is that a flash of light descends upon the cow from heaven, and this causes her to conceive Apis. The Apis-calf has distinctive marks: it is black, with a white square on its forehead, the image of an eagle on its back, the hair on its tail double, and a scarab under its tongue.’ There, what do you think of that?”

He looked eagerly at Strange, who considered. “Well, it’s a remarkable description, one that certainly suggests magic. But the name. You think that this Apis has some connection to the Serapis worshipped in the York temple? Serapis, Apis.”

Norrell nodded eagerly. “Yes! I’m fairly sure of it, in fact. And he further says this: ‘Psammetichus built the southern gateway of the temple of Ptah at Memphis, and opposite it a court for Apis [...]. Apis is kept in this court whenever he appears; it has a colonnade round it, with statues six meters high instead of pillars, and is richly carved with figures.’ Can you imagine, statues six metres high?”

“Impressive indeed!” Strange said, leafing through Norden’s book. “I should very much like to read this.”

Norrell took his hand with a delighted smile. “Of course, Jonathan! It would be marvelous to share with you this other passion of mine, which is, I believe, not entirely separate from my love of magic. I cannot imagine anyone looking through the illustrations in this book and some of the others I own and not longing to see the original sites and artifacts. None of the others is as splendid or carefully done as Norden’s two volumes, however—until recently, that is.” He paused and glanced over at a cabinet standing isolated in a corner. Apart from its side and legs, it was hidden under a large, embroidered dust cover.

“Oh? And what has been published to supersede them?”

Norrell rose and walked over to the hidden cabinet. He folded the cover back over the top to reveal a set of large, horizontal shelves on which lay several immense volumes. He stepped back and looked at them with a delighted little smile.

“It seems ironic that we owe this miraculous set of books to the agency of the foe that we both spent so much time and effort fighting, but it is a fact that cannot be denied.”

“Napoleon, you mean?”

“Yes. You were a young man at the time, probably at university, but you undoubtedly followed the course of the French wars to some extent.”

“Oh, yes, I think everyone was quite fascinated by the whole thing.”

“Then you no doubt remember that Napoleon invaded Egypt in 1798, hoping to cut off England’s trade routes to India. Not to belabour the tale, Lord Nelson soon destroyed most of the French fleet, trapping Napoleon and his army in Egypt. The military back and forth is of no interest of us now. We know well what the ultimate outcome was. What is important is that with remarkable forethought, Napoleon took with him a large group of savants, 151 if I recall rightly, along with some artists. They were men with expertise primarily in science, engineering and technology who were tasked with recording everything they saw in three areas: the ancient monuments and artifacts, modern life in Egypt and the flora and fauna of the country. With Napoleon’s army trapped, these savants were forced to stay on, and until 1801 they travelled the length of the Nile. The result has been this extraordinary series of volumes on those three areas of study. The first was published in 1809, coincidentally that marvelous year when you and I first met. The publication is still underway—not surprisingly, considering the immensity of the project. The final three volumes of the nineteen are due within the next few years.

“I was determined from the start to acquire the entire series, which could be purchased through a subscription. Of course, I could not do so directly, since we were at war with France at the time. Still, given my services to the nation, I was able to exert some influence and obtain them through convoluted channels—them and this special cabinet that was included in the subscription. After the end of the war, of course, acquiring them became easier. I have all the volumes that have so far appeared. The ones on flora and fauna do not interest me particularly, though you might wish to have a look at them. I have poured over all the ones on the antiquities, of course. There are four volumes of plates so far and four of texts. One further volume of plates is promised. I also look into those on modern Egypt, of which one more is also to come. Naturally one would need to know as much as possible about modern Egypt in preparation for visiting there. Some of the authors of the volumes published earlier in the century describe quite chilling encounters with local tribes who were none too welcoming.”

Strange looked at him dubiously. “Oh, really? Well, I suppose in any truly exotic land that we visited we might find the local people equally hostile. In such circumstances we can hardly announce our good intentions via the local newspapers. No doubt, being forewarned is certainly helpful in that regard. It is certainly ironic, as you say, that your fascination with the country has been encouraged by the enemy whom you so greatly helped to defeat—though, of course, you had not yet become involved in the war effort at the time of this Egyptian expedition.”

“Yes, indeed, though by the time the publication started, I was very much involved. Let me give you a little taste of this extraordinary achievement.”

Norrell slid one of the immense volumes out and carried it awkwardly toward a table nearby. Strange rose and helped him to place it on the table and open it. The first plate was a plan of an island labelled “Philae.” Norrell turned the page. The second plate showed a complex of buildings set in the middle of what appeared to be a lake surrounded by a rocky landscape.

“This is a back view of Philae, which is apparently a temple. Notice how the back wall is covered with writing. They are too small here to be seen clearly, but they are hieroglyphs.”

He turned another page, and suddenly the extent of the buildings became apparent, stretching along a huge colonnade to a façade made up of two immense connected towers, with a similar wall or gateway behind. At the far right was a sort of kiosk supported by large pillars on all sides.

Strange stared in fascination at the engraving. Norrell brought out another volume and opened it. This one consisted of texts. “These are the descriptions of the buildings and other engravings in the plates volume. M Lancret, one of the authors of this text volume, gave his impression of this fantastic island as he saw it by moonlight: ‘I was dreaming, with both pleasure and uncertainty, that I was in one of the most extraordinary places on earth, amid scenes that seemed somehow fabulous, whose names spoken since infancy, have taken on gigantic, almost magical significance.’” He paused, smiling. “Magical significance. Over the years, as I have paged through these volumes, studying every detail, I have dreamed of seeing such places and divining what that magical significance might be.”

Strange returned his smile and nodded. He resumed looking at the plates volume, slowly turning its pages. There were engravings of buildings, of strange reliefs and of column capitals with exotic carvings, including human heads. He noted the transcriptions of hieroglyphs and wondered at the neat little columns of images—some recognizable as birds or humans and some mysterious, perhaps representing everyday objects of the era.

“Fascinating!”

Encouraged by Strange’s interest, Norrell pulled out the second plates volume and showed him some of his favourite images. Plate 12 was a coloured engraving labelled “Thebes, Medynet-abou,” showing a man in a chariot pulled by horses, with tiny men attending him and three rows of other, much smaller men, apparently prisoners.

“A king, do you think?” Strange asked, pointing to the man in the chariot.

“Yes, undoubtedly. Mr Thomas Young has pointed out that the kings’ and queens’ names are written within these ovals, which the French term cartouches. Which king he is the scholars do not yet know. Note also how there are texts written over all over the scene, presumably describing who these people are and what they are doing. If only we could read them!”

Norrell turned to plate 20, entitled “Thebes, Memnonium,” which showed two large seated statues in a barren landscape. They were much worn and cracked, with their faces missing. Strange examined the engraving closely. 

“Good Lord!” he exclaimed, “is that a camel down below them? And men sitting and standing about? Why, the statues must be enormous, bigger than any I have ever seen.”

Norrell nodded, delight at his reaction. “Yes, and there are buildings equally large, even more so than Philae. And fascinating images.” He turned forward to plates 78 and 79. 

“Thebes, Byban el Molouk,” Strange read. “I assume that is Arabic.”

“Yes,” said Norrell enthusiastically. “While in London I consulted a scholar who is an expert in that language, and he told me that the phrase means ‘the doorways of the kings.’ They are apparently the tombs of the ancient kings, cut down into the living rock. Very deep into the rock.” His finger traced the long cross-sectional drawings that stretched across the entire width of two pages.

“Good Lord! Chamber after chamber, hundreds of feet into the mountain. Amazing!”

Norrell nodded and turned to plate 91, which showed two colourful scenes of stiffly seated men being entertained by men playing harps. “Yes, and decorated with strange but beautiful wall paintings of this sort.” He sighed as he looked at the harpists. “So beautiful, and yet so mysterious,” he murmured.

Strange shook his head in wonder. “Do we have any sense of how old these buildings and tombs are?”

“Well, Herodotus speaks of them as already ancient in his time, and his HISTORIES were published in the fifth century BC. Beyond that, there are other Greek texts with lists of kings and queens divided by dynasties, suggesting that the civilization endured for quite some time. Specific dates are hard to determine, but these ruins must be thousands of years old.”

The two paused, staring at the images spread out on the table before them.

Norrell closed the Norden volume and handed it to Strange. “Well, we should not rush through these beautiful books. I would suggest that you read this. That would provide you with some background information. Then I would love to show to you the DESCRIPTION page by page in detail. There are such delights here!”

“Yes, I definitely want to go through them thoroughly! Is there anything pertaining to the Apis bulls and to Memphis?”

“Alas, Memphis is apparently to be dealt with in the next and final antiquities volume. The largest pyramids should also be in that volume. They say it will appear in the next two or three years. I have waited so long between each volume, but they are so complex and large that it is hardly any wonder that the publication is so protracted. At least now we have most of them.

“There are other images that strongly suggest magic to me. For one thing, the ancient Egyptians apparently mummified both humans and animals. Beyond that, I am particularly intrigued by these figures, some of which you must have noticed, that seem to be combinations of human and animal traits. Quite often the heads are those of animals, placed upon human bodies. Here, for example, is what seems to be a dog or jackal-headed figure, and here a man with a crocodile’s head. Or take a look at this image.” He pulled out the fourth volume of plates and opened it to number 29. “These column capitals consist of what appear to be women’s heads but with some sort of animal’s ears.”

Strange leaned in for a closer look. “I would wager that they are cows’ ears,” he said.

“Cows?” Norrell looked more closely as well. “I wouldn’t be able to tell. Did you encounter many cows in Portugal?”

“Some, yes, but my familiarity goes back considerably further than that. It was on my father’s farm, or rather, my farm—that is, Bell’s now. As I have mentioned, my father was very strict and unkind. He made me do a great many chores around the place, as if I were a hired workman. It was all I was good for, he claimed. My tasks included milking, and I saw cows far closer to than I hope I shall ever again.”

Norrell looked at him dolefully and suddenly hugged him, stroking his arm soothingly. “I am so sorry to hear that,” he said.

Strange was touched. In such a situation, he suspected that Bell would have tried to cheer him up, pointing out that his childhood trials were long ago and that he had ultimately come through them fairly well. Which would be pleasant enough, but Norrell seemed more inclined to comfort him, as if the hardships he described had happened days rather than years ago. His embrace inspired a wave of affection in Strange. He kissed his lover’s forehead. 

“Thank you, Gilbert. Do not be sad. I suppose in a way such chores were good for me, teaching me discipline and so on.”

Norrell drew back and looked at him with a mocking little smile. “Discipline?”

Strange laughed. “Do you know, you are becoming quite good at teazing me! Well, perhaps not much discipline by your standards, but more than I would have had otherwise, at any rate. Note also that during our first week or so in the Darkness without servants my skills acquired in those days were of considerable use to us. And now I have been able to identify what sort of ears these mysterious ladies have. That is something. Though why they have them is beyond me to say.”

Norrell shook his head. “Something to do with magic, I strongly suspect. These strange semi-human figures must be gods or demons. Some sort of supernatural creatures. Perhaps they are beings somewhat comparable to our English Fairies.”

“That’s a fascinating thought! Yes, you are right, if only we could read these signs or letters or whatever they are … these hieroglyphs.”

The two magicians carefully closed the huge volumes and returned them to their case. Norrell unfolded the dust cover down over them, and the pair returned to the library and sat on the sopha.

They stared thoughtfully into the fire for a time. Finally Norrell said, “Jonathan, I know you are eager to set out on our adventures. I propose the following. Let us spend some time each day for the next few weeks going through the DESCRIPTION volumes. If you find that you are eager to explore the antiquities there, we shall take that as our goal. We would then begin to prepare for the journey. I would investigate to try and discover whether there are British explorers working in Egypt or planning to do so. It would be a great help to us if we could attach ourselves to an expert who knows the country and could advise us about the practicalities of living there and perhaps warn us about dangers we might encounter.”

Strange nodded. “I already suspect that I will agree with you that Egypt would be a fascinating place to visit, full of ancient magic that we could investigate.”

“I hope you will. But I say all of this on the condition that in fact a breakthrough in the decipherment of the hieroglyphs occurs within the next few years. I know it sounds like a considerable delay, but it would really be impossible to learn what we need to know without being able to consult experts who can tell us at least part of what the texts say. Also, I should very much like to acquire the fifth and final volume of the DESCRIPTION, which in addition to Memphis and the great pyramids will deal with Alexandria. That will complete the antiquities portion of the series, since all of the text volumes are already out. In the meantime we might do some of the less ambitious traveling that we have discussed, such as visiting Iceland. Does that sound agreeable to you? At least a delay of that length would allow us to be thoroughly prepared for our first big adventure.”

Strange nodded. “I suppose it somewhat depends whether the breakthrough really comes within the next few years. Seeing those extraordinary images in your books, however, makes me realize that it will take a good deal of study for me to catch up to you in your knowledge of the ancient civilization. And, as you say, there are many practical aspects to be dealt with, such as making contact with experts who might help us—and whom we might help in some ways we cannot yet foresee. We have been successful in our travels within Europe because we prepared the way by contacting important local people and inducing the newspapers to publish positive accounts of our movements. Yes, I agree, let’s follow your plan. Apart from the innate attraction of Egypt, it will be best if we start with a place that excites your imagination so. That might make it possible for me to pry you away from your comfortable life here in Kassel.”

“Yes, I promise that I shall set out with you, under those conditions. Jonathan … now that we are able to leave the Darkness, if only one at a time … I assume we shall make no effort to take the next step and attempt to do magic that would allow us both to leave it simultaneously. It seems to be too risky, to be tempting fate.”

Strange thought briefly. “Well, we agree that it is the source of much of our power. We presumably could not travel in Hurtfew if we did not have it. Do you … do you fear, as I am inclined to do, that if we managed to find a way for both of us to leave it, it might disappear? That it must somehow be attached to us magically if it is to belong to us?”

“It is certainly quite possible. I would not dare to take such a step. Besides, it protects us to some extent. People can enter it through the archway, as the Lady presumably did, but we have put up a spell that will keep Fairies out—or at least we hope so—while letting Christians in. Maybe it is just my innate fearfulness, but I should feel horribly exposed without the Darkness.”

Strange nodded. “Let us agree, then, that neither of us will make any attempt to find a spell that would let us both leave simultaneously. I am inclined to accept it exactly as it is now.”

“I as well.”

“Good! And now, far from being too early to go to bed, we have stayed up rather late, I believe. But to good purpose. Thank you for showing me your other library!”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

By the time that they were in bed, they were too tired to do more than take turns sucking each other to climax. Afterward they lay in each other’s arms, struggling to stay awake and enjoy the aftermath of their pleasure.

Strange yawned and said, “With all our protective spells now in place, I shall sleep more soundly, I think.” He kissed Norrell. “I do love you so.”

Norrell replied softly, “Jonathan, you are the love of my life. I can say that confidently, you know. I went through seven and a half years of loving you without any hope that you would ever love me in return. And now we have been lovers for over three years. My devotion to you has only grown stronger, I think, as we work together and share a bed and have such fascinating discussions of magic. I could no more stop loving you than …” 

He trailed off, trying to think of a comparison that could make the impossibility seem vivid. Strange wondered what he could mention that even a great magician could never conceivably do. He waited with considerable curiosity.

Finally Norrell said with a smile, “… than I could ever develop a passionate desire for ladies over men.”

Strange laughed and pulled him close. “Ah, then I know have your undying love. Not that I ever doubted it for a moment.”

“Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“To say that you could no more stop loving me than …” He looked at Strange with a smile and elevated eyebrows.

“Oh, well, that’s easy! Than I could conceive a sudden desire to go and live with Lady Turn-of-Tide!”


End file.
